JULIE'S  DIARY 


UCSB   LIBRARY 


JULIE'S     DIARY 


A     PERSONAL     RECORD 


BOSTON 

JOHN  W.   LUCE   AND   COMPANY 
1908 


Authorized  translation, 

1908,  issued  by 

JOHN  W.  LUCE  AND  COMPANY 
BOSTON,  MASS.,  U.  S.  A. 


JULIE'S  DIARY 


JULIE'S    DIARY 

THIS  book  was  mother's  Christmas 
present  to  me,  and  in  it  I  am  going 
to  write  all  my  thoughts  and  everything 
that  happens  in  my  life.  I  don't  mean  to 
flatter  myself.  I  intend  to  write  down 
the  good  as  well  as  the  bad.  In  this  way 
the  diary  will  be  a  truthful  mirror.  But 
I  wonder  when  the  book  is  finished,  if  it 
will  tell  the  tale  of  a  happy  or  a  sad  life? 
Will  it  be  like  a  novel  with  exciting  pages, 
or  will  it  perchance  be  merely — nothing? 
Beginning  the  book  I  ask  these  questions 
with  anxious  curiosity,  meanwhile  recom- 
mending myself  and  my  book  to  the 
mercy  of  all  good  powers. 

Copenhagen,  The  Avenue, 
27th  December,  1905. 

JULIE  MATHILDE  MAGENS, 

Born  the  23rd  of  April,  1886, 
Daughter  of  Flowerpainter  and  Professor 

HOLGER  MAGENS. 


2  JULIE'S  DIARY 

NEW  YEAR'S  EVE,  12.30. 

HOW  solemn  is  the  thought  that  the 
old  year  is  finished,  and  that  out  of 
the  gloom  and  darkness  of  the  winter- 
night  dawns  the  new  year.  Once  more  a 
year  has  passed — what  has  it  brought  me  ? 
Once  more  a  year  is  beginning — what  will 
it  bring  me  ?  I  can  answer  the  first  ques- 
tion. The  old  year  brought  me  nothing. 
When  I  think  of  it,  it  seems  to  me  like  a 
long,  straight  road,  a  road  without  a 
break,  without  colour,  without  change. 
A  series  of  quiet  walks  all  of  equal  length, 
all  in  the  same  direction,  and  all  through 
the  same  melancholy  surroundings.  How 
I  see  it  all!  In  the  morning  dear  little 
mother  and  I  walking  along  the  Old 
King's  Road  to  town  to  do  our  shopping. 
We  walk  quietly,  gliding  along  amongst 
the  many  people  as  though  we  did  not  be- 
long to  them.  We  know  only  a  few,  and 
still  fewer  know  us.  Yet  in  a  way  they 
all  know  us,  for  we  belong  to  the  constant 
wayfarers  of  the  road.  'The  widow  and 


JULIE'S  DIARY  3 

her  daughter'  we  once  heard  a  man  say 
as  we  passed.  We  smiled  when  we  heard 
the  remark,  the  words  seemed  appropri- 
ate. Mother,  small  and  slender,  always 
dressed  in  black ;  I  tall  and  thin — perhaps 
rather  angular — not  very  smartly  dressed, 
yet  on  the  whole  rather  nicely.  We  never 
stop  on  our  way,  we  walk,  assiduously 
along,  as  if  it  was  our  business  to  walk, 
and  we  look  neither  to  the  right  nor  to 
the  left.  Still  this  is  not  quite  truthful, 
or  at  all  events  only  as  far  as  mother  is 
concerned,  for  I  constantly  glance  about 
me  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eyes. 

We  return  home,  and  it  is  dinner-time. 
The  family  gathers.  How  cold  it  is  in 
the  dining-room,  in  spite  of  the  rose  and 
fruit  garlands  with  which  father  has  deco- 
rated the  walls.  Mother,  Frantz  (a  long 
overgrown  boy  of  sixteen)  and  I  take  our 
seats  first,  then  father  enters  from  his 
studio.  He  is  tall  and  thin,  and  always 
dressed  in  a  long  coat  of  grey  material; 
he  always  feels  cold  and  is  always  suffer- 


4  JULIE'S  DIARY 

ing  from  some  ailment  or  other.  I  be- 
lieve it  is  he  who  brings  the  cold  with  him 
into  the  room.  He  looks  sharply  at  us 
through  his  gold-rimmed  glasses,  nods 
and  sits  down  without  saying  a  word. 
We  eat  our  dinner  as  if  we  were  perform- 
ing a  sad  duty.  We  eat  very  little  to  get 
as  quickly  as  possible  through  the  meal. 
That  is  the  reason  we  are  all  thin  and  pale 
like  the  plants  which  grow  in  the  shadow. 
That  image  struck  me  one  day  as  we  left 
the  table.  As  we  stood  there,  three  tall, 
one  short,  I  suddenly  thought  of  a  calla 
we  had  years  ago.  We  fancied  it  was 
dead,  and  left  it  in  a  dark  room  facing 
the  yard.  But  one  morning  when  I  en- 
tered the  place,  I  saw  that  it  had  got  four 
new  shoots,  slender  and  palish  green,  each 
ending  in  some  tiny,  transparent  leaves. 
The  conversation  at  dinner  cannot  be 
called  lively.  It  always  begins  with 
mother  asking  father,  'How  do  you  feel 
to-day,  Holger?  Has  your  head  been 
very  bad?'  To  which  the  answer  invari- 


JULIE'S  DIARY  5 

ably  is,  'Oh,  if  it  was  only  a  headache  I 
wouldn't  mind  very  much,  but  those  ter- 
rible pains  in  my  back  worry  the  life  out 
of  me.'  Next  day  mother  starts  on  the 
subject  of  the  back,  and  it  is  pretty  cer- 
tain to  be  the  head  that  is  the  most  worry- 
ing. 

Otherwise  the  entertainment  at  dinner 
is  provided  by  Master  Frantz,  who  has 
an  elaborate  repertoire  of  small  vices. 
Frantz,  who  is  at  college  in  the  second 
form,  is  constantly  suspected  of  laziness, 
of  a  life  of  recklessness  in  the  way  of  ex- 
cessive enjoyment  of  cigarettes  and  clan- 
destine drinks.  He  also  arouses  the  dis- 
pleasure of  my  aesthetic  papa  by  a  certain 
slackness  in  manners,  by  holding  his 
knife  and  fork  carelessly,  by  rocking  on  his 
chair,  by  neglecting  his  nails,  etc.  Thus 
our  dinner  is  seasoned  in  a  most  delight- 
ful way. 

The  evening  is  the  oasis  of  the  day. 
When  Frantz  has  retired  to  his  lessons  or 
his  clandestine  drink,  and  father  at  ten 


6  JULIE'S  DIARY 

o'clock  has  said  good-night,  mother  and  I 
have  a  cosy  chat.  We  open  the  door  of 
the  stove  so  that  we  can  see  the  fire  shine 
through  the  grating,  we  put  the  red  shade 
on  the  lamp,  and  make  ourselves  comfort- 
able on  the  couch.  What  do  we  talk 
about?  About  everything  and  nothing, 
from  the  greatest  to  the  smallest,  about 
what  we  have  seen  in  the  papers,  about 
books  we  have  read,  about  life's  great 
problems,  about  family  events  old  and 
new,  but  above  all  we  talk  of  love.  To 
hear  mother  talk  of  love  is  so  beautiful 
and  so  touching,  that  it  brings  tears  to 
my  eyes.  Poor  little  mother  with  her  big 
warm  heart,  who  was  born  to  be  treated 
gently  by  life.  Surely  she  must  have  had 
a  romance  in  her  young  days.  It  can- 
not possibly  be  memories  from  her  mar- 
ried life  that  fill  her  thoughts  with  so 
much  poetry.  She  did  not  marry  father 
until  she  was  twenty-seven  years  old,  both 
her  parents  had  died  without  leaving  her 
a  penny.  But  it  is  loveliest  of  all  when 


JULIE'S  DIARY  7 

mother  tells  me  of  her  home,  where  life 
was  lived  in  great  and  merry  style  and 
with  musical  evenings,  dances,  and  sleigh- 
ing parties.  Ah,  grandfather,  grand- 
father, why  did  you  squander  all  your 
money,  so  that  none  of  the  pleasures  were 
left  for  your  poor  little  grand-daughter? 
And  you,  lovely  and  wonderful  grand- 
mother, about  whom  the  legends  tell  fas- 
cinating, naughty  fairy-tales,  why  did  I 
not  know  you,  you  splendid  woman,  who 
on  your  marriage  day,  tired  of  the  great 
feast  and  rejoicing  of  friends,  escaped 
with  grandfather  and  flew  off  in  a  sleigh 
drawn  by  four  horses  to  the  brightly  lit 
country  inn,  where  you  two  alone  con- 
tinued the  feast — you  two  alone. 

If  you — from  your — I  am  sure — radi- 
ant heaven,  could  follow  your  family's 
earthly  strife,  I  think  you  would  pity 
mother  and  me  for  the  way  in  which  we 
have  kept  New  Year's  eve.  In  our  home 
it  is  not  the  habit,  as  it  was  in  yours,  to 
honour  the  old  year  with  ringing  fare- 


8  JULIE'S  DIARY 

wells  from  friends  gathered  round  a  fes- 
tive board,  or  bidding  the  New  Year  wel- 
come to  the  merry  popping  of  the  cham- 
pagne corks. 

We  sat  quite  alone,  mother  and  I,  wait- 
ing for  the  New  Year.  Each  in  her  own 
corner  of  the  sofa  we  sat  huddled  up,  sat 
during  two  long  hours,  not  having  the 
heart  to  commence  our  usual  talk.  But 
when  the  old,  worn-out  bells  of  the  grand- 
father clock,  with  their  wheezy  notes, 
sounded  the  midnight  chime,  we  started 
up  and  listened,  and  a  curious  fear  crept 
over  me.  It  was  foolish,  but  I  seemed  to 
feel  that  an  hour  of  decision  was  near. 
Each  time  the  chime  rang  out  it  seemed 
to  say,  'Now  is  your  time — now  is  your 
time' — until  the  strokes  of  the  hour  ended 
with  a  tingling  sound  as  of  distant  sleigh- 
ing bells.  Then  mother  took  me  in  her 
arms,  bent  over  me,  and  said,  as  she  kissed 
me:  'You  big  ugly  darling,  may  God 
make  the  New  Year  bright  and  happy  for 
you.'  And  when  I  answered,  'Thank 


JULIE'S  DIARY  9 

you  for  the  old  year,  darling  mother,'  she 
patted  my  cheek  and  said,  'Alas,  that  you 
have  so  little  to  thank  me  for,'  and  shortly 
after,  with  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  she  said, 
'I  am  afraid  things  at  home  are  not  so 
happy  as  they  might  be  for  my  little  girl. 
It  is  a  different  thing  when  one  is  finished 
with  life,  but  young  blood  needs  sunlight.' 
'But  I  have  got  you,  mother  sweet,'  I 
whispered.  She  stood  up,  smiled,  and 
said  with  that  roguish  twinkle  which  she 
sometimes  has,  'Are  girls  nowadays  so 
easily  satisfied?'  Then  we  kissed  each 
other  good-night  and  parted. 

I  knew  what  she  meant.  She  meant 
Erik.  Yes,  you  dear  far-off  friend, 
whose  few  and  short  letters  have  been  the 
shooting  stars  in  this  year  of  darkness. 
If  you  knew  what  dangerous  conspiracy 
against  your  liberty  we  are  planning  here, 
I  wonder  if  you  would  ever  return? 

Ah  well,  perhaps  you  would  all  the 
same.  But  if  you  knew  in  what  an  ugly 
and  mercenary  way  I  am  speculating  in 


10  JULIE'S  DIARY 

you,  you  would  quite  rightly  despise  me. 
For  when  I  ask  myself,  if  I  love  you,  the 
answer  is — no — and  yet,  if  at  this  moment 
you  entered  the  room  and  asked  me  if  I 
would  be  your  wife,  I  would  say  yes  with- 
out hesitation.  For  you  are  the  only  raft 
in  sight — my  only  chance  of  escape  from 
this  sad  wreck,  my  home,  and  I  cry  out 
into  this  New  Year's  eve,  help,  help — if 
you  heard  me  and  came  to  me  I  promise 
you  I  would  make  you  a  good  and  faith- 
ful wife,  always  be  fond  of  you,  never 
forget  what  I  owed  you.  I  have  learned 
not  to  ask  too  much  of  life.  All  I  ask 
for  now  is  liberty.  Yes,  mother,  you  are 
right.  I  am  not  happy  here,  I  am  long- 
ing for  warmth  and  sunshine,  I  am  a  poor, 
pale  calla  forgotten  in  a  dark  room. 

I  have  read  through  what  I  have  writ- 
ten, and  it  makes  me  feel  ashamed  of  my- 
self. Here  have  I,  the  Julie  Magens 
they  at  school  called  Puck,  been  sitting, 
letting  the  ink  drop  from  my  pen  like 
tears.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your- 


JULIE'S  DIARY  11 

self,  dear  lady;  dry  your  eyes,  and  greet 
the  New  Year  with  a  smiling  face.  Of 
course  it  will  bring  you  something  good  if 
you  will  only  stretch  out  your  hands  hope- 
fuDy.  Perhaps  the  morning  will  bring 
me  a  greeting  from  Erik.  But  if  in  the 
morning,  or  rather  to-day,  I  should  get  a 
New  Year's  greeting  from  him, 

Then  girls  in  dance  will  sway 
With  roses  all  the  way, 
The  merry  music  play 
On  Julie's  wedding  day. 

This  is  my  very  own  poem. 


1st  OF  JAN. 

WELL,  I  have  reason  to  be  in  excel- 
lent spirits.  I  had  a  letter  from 
Erik.  It  was  quite  a  long  letter,  full  of 
love-like  longing  for  his  'foster-sister' 
Julie.  Erik  has  nearly  spent  the  money 
his  father  gave  him  for  his  studies  in  Vi- 
enna; he  has  also  a  flattering  offer  to  en- 


12  JULIE'S  DIARY 

ter  into  business  with  one  of  the  most  able 
of  our  young  architects.  If  his  father 
will  only  advance  the  necessary  capital, 
Erik  will  return  within  a  few  weeks, 
and  'I  have  then  something  very  impor- 
tant to  talk  to  you  about,'  he  says  in  his 
letter. 

In  other  words,  within  a  month  I  shall 
be  engaged  to  Mr.  Architect  Erik  Glerup, 
and  we  will  be  married  next  April.  We 
will  take  a  five-roomed  flat ;  we  will  order 
our  furniture  from  the  designs  Erik  made 
last  Christmas,  when  we  jokingly  dis- 
cussed how  we  would  like  to  arrange  our 
flat.  We  will  have  a  charming  and  com- 
fortable home,  lead  a  sociable  life  in  a 
quiet  way,  now  and  again  we  will  go  to 
the  theatre  and  sit  in  good  seats,  we  will 
become  respected  citizens,  we  won't  owe 
anything  to  anybody ;  on  the  contrary,  we 
will  put  something  by  each  year,  and  for 
every  ten  thousand  crowns  we  have  in  the 
bank  we  will  allow  ourselves  a  new  luxury. 
We  will  end  by  being  well  off,  perhaps  by 


JULIE'S  DIARY  13 

having  a  title,  and  by  getting  the  order 
of  Danebrog. 

And  when  'Etatsraadinde'  Julie  Gle- 
rup,  President  of  the  Society  for  'the  Nu- 
trition of  Infants,'  full  of  years  and  hon- 
our entering  into  the  peace  of  death,  looks 
back  over  her  past  life,  she  finds  it  grey — 
grey,  prosaically  honourable — honourably 
dull,  which  is  just  what  she  hates  and  de- 
tests most  of  all. 

But  even  now  when  she  is  neither  pro- 
saic, nor  honourable,  nor  'Etatsraadinde,' 
and  knows  to  a  nicety  what  the  future  will 
bring  when  she  is  married  to  the  good,  re- 
spectable, and  clever  Erik,  she  will  do  it 
all  the  same,  do  it  because  she  is  a  coward, 
who,  in  spite  of  all  heretical  thoughts  and 
ideas,  is  ready  to  creep  into  a  corner  for 
fear  of  other  people's  criticism.  It  is 
only  in  her  thoughts  and  dreams  that  she 
has  courage  enough  to  wander  from  that 
little  sod  of  earth,  on  which  she  is  sure  of 
finding  food.  For  was  not  her  coward- 
ice distinctly  proved,  when  three  years 


14  JULIE'S  DIARY 

ago,  declaring  heroically  that  she  could 
not  stand  it  any  longer,  she  left  her  home, 
only  to  return  five  hours  later  like  a 
naughty  little  girl  to  be  greeted  by  her 
father's  punishment  and  her  mother's 
tears. 

When  I  think  that  this  ridiculous  flight 
is  the  one  brave  deed  of  my  life,  I  must 
blushingly  admit  that  I  do  not  seem  to 
have  been  born  for  anything  more  exalted 
than  to  be  'Etatsraadinde,'  and  that  I,  on 
the  contrary,  ought  to  thank  Heaven  on 
bended  knees  if  I  get  so  far.  Therefore, 
hurrah  for  Erik's  letter!  It  is  a  Christ- 
mas message  to  me.  It  promises  me  that 
before  Midsummer  Day  I  shall  be  a  mar- 
ried woman,  and  the  envy  of  all  my 
women  friends — which,  after  all,  is  better 
than  nothing. 

As  this  is  New  Year's  Day,  there  has 
been  a  gala  dinner  for  the  family  at 
grandmama's.  Considering  that  grand- 
mama  is  father's  mother,  she  really  is  an 
amiable  old  lady.  Deep  in  her  heart,  I 


JULIE'S  DIARY  15 

believe,  grandmama  is  seriously  an- 
noyed with  father's  behaviour,  if  it  is  pos- 
sible to  use  such  a  definite  word  in  regard 
to  grandmother's  mental  attitude.  She  sits 
immovable,  planted  amongst  pillows  on 
her  old,  straight  mahogany  sofa,  over 
which  hangs  grandpapa's  portrait  in  oil 
— father's  first  big  picture.  He  is  a  stiff, 
lean,  ascetic-looking  clergyman,  dressed 
in  full  bishop's  robes,  with  the  ribbon  of 
the  Grand  Order  round  his  neck. 
Grandmama  is  like  a  wax  figure,  not  a 
muscle  quivers  in  her  large,  regular,  white 
face,  surrounded  by  the  goffered  ruche  of 
her  cap.  For  the  last  two  years  she  has 
not  even  had  a  piece  of  knitting  in  her 
hands.  She  sits  like  a  symbol  of  peaceful 
old  age,  free  from  strife  and  worry.  She 
speaks  in  the  same  monotonous  voice, 
whether  she  expresses  joy  or  sorrow,  and 
she  talks  as  slowly  as  if  the  finding  of  each 
word  was  an  effort.  But  in  the  almost 
extinguished  face  burn  two  dear  dark 
eyes,  with  a  curious,  strong  fire.  They 


16  JULIE'S  DIARY 

can  look  at  one  so  steadfastly,  and  so  lov- 
ingly, they  can  question  in  such  a  sweet, 
understanding  way,  that  one  feels  tempted 
to  throw  oneself  on  her  neck  and  weep 
away  all  one's  foolish  sorrows  on  her  quiet 
old  heart. 

The  menu  at  grandmama's  New  Year's 
dinner  is  as  unchangeable  as  she  is  her- 
self :  a  real  family  soup,  strong,  spicy,  and 
scented  with  many  vegetables  in  which 
float  balls  of  forcemeat,  then  boiled  plaice, 
followed  by  an  enormous  round  of  beef, 
red  and  juicy.  After  that,  home-made 
apple  cake.  With  this  we  drink  claret, 
which  is  not  too  generously  poured  out, 
but  which  it  is  almost  a  crime  to  drink, 
so  intoxicatingly  beautiful  is  its  perfume : 
it  is  a  relic  from  the  days  of  my  right  rev- 
erend grandfather,  who  died  fifteen  years 
ago.  At  dessert  Madeira  is  handed 
round. 

I  cannot  say  that  grandmama's  dinners 
are  very  amusing,  and  yet  how  cosy  and 
comfortable  her  home  is.  All  inharmoni- 


JULIE'S  DIARY  17 

ous  things  must  depart  in  the  presence  of 
this  dignified  old  age,  even  father  does 
his  best  to  be  more  sociable.  What  a 
wonderful  appetite  it  gives  one  to  see 
grandmama  with  her  kind  eyes  watching 
to  see  that  each  one  gets  something  really 
nice  and  tempting,  and  to  hear  her  hos- 
pitable invitation  to  second  helpings.  I 
smile  to  think  how  greedy  I  am  at  these 
dinners,  where  we  linger  over  each  dish, 
which  is  handed  round  with  festive  dignity 
by  an  old  maid-servant  in  a  spotless,  old- 
fashioned  apron;  not  to  mention  Frantz, 
who  stuffs  himself  with  quite  indecent 
gluttony. 

At  the  dessert  grandma  lifts  her  glass 
and  says,  always  in  the  same  words :  'Then 
let  us  drink  a  happy  New  Year  to  every 
one,  but  most  of  all  to  the  young  people.' 
When  to-day  I  clinked  my  glass  against 
hers,  for  I  sat  next  to  her  at  dinner,  she 
looked  at  me  for  a  long  time,  with  her 
large  eyes  and  said,  'I  drink  to  you!' — 
'Thank  you,  grandmama.'  She  looked 


18  JULIE'S  DIARY 

again  at  me  and  said,  'Am  I  not  right?' 
-'In  what,  grandmama?' — 'I  won't  say 
any  more,  I  am  only  asking.'  I  blushed, 
but  the  others  laughed. 

I  wonder  if  anybody  has  spoken  to  her 
about  Erik.  What  else  could  she  mean? 

Grandmama  is  not  rich;  she  has  just 
sufficient  to  live  comfortably  in  her  simple 
way,  but  by  being  economical  in  daily  life, 
she  can  afford  now  and  then  to  give  us 
little  presents,  sometimes  a  few  shillings 
for  theatre  tickets,  sometimes  a  gold  piece 
to  buy  something  useful. 

She  always  hands  her  presents  to  us  in 
a  curiously  secretive  way,  and  she  does  not 
like  us  to  speak  about  what  she  has  given 
us.  When  to-day,  for  instance,  after 
dinner,  I  sat  with  her  on  her  sofa,  I  no- 
ticed that  she  was  gently  pulling  my 
sleeve.  I  peeped  down  and  saw  that  she 
had  pushed  something  white  over  to  me. 
It  was  two  two-crown  pieces  carefully 
wrapped  in  white  paper,  on  which  was 


JULIE'S  DIARY  19 

written,  'For  you  and  Frantz  to  see  the 
new  play.' 

So  if  we  can  get  tickets  we  are  going  to 
see  Suleima  on  Wednesday.  I  am  so  ex- 
cited about  it.  You  sweet  old  grand- 
mama! 


2nd  OF  JAN. 

GOT  up  early  and  was  busy  till  lunch. 
'Busy'  means  that  I  painted.  I  am 
painting  under  father's  supervision,  and 
at  present  I  am  working  on  a  floral  dinner 
service  for  the  young  Countess  B.  .  .  . 
After  lunch,  I  practised  for  an  hour,  then 
I  went  to  town  with  mother,  but  did  not 
meet  a  single  interesting  person.  After 
dinner  I  helped  mother  to  go  through  the 
linen.  Played  a  little  for  her  in  the  even- 
ing. Went  to  bed  early. 


20  JULIE'S  DIARY 

3rd   OF   JAN. 

WENT  to  St.  Matthew's  church  with 
mother.     Lunch.     Walk.     Din- 
ner.    Did  some  embroidery.     Not  a  visi- 
tor all  day  long.     Not  a  letter.     What 
one  would  call  a  delightful  Sunday. 


4th  AND  5th  OF  JAN. 

I  PUT  these  two  days  together,  be- 
cause they  have  the  same  words  and 
music.  Got  up  early,  busy  till  lunch. 
Practised  after  lunch  for  an  hour  and  so 
on  (for  the  rest  see  the  2nd  of  Jan.).  I 
note  for  the  sake  of  variety  that  we  have 
got  a  new  neighbour,  a  young  man,  ap- 
parently rich.  He  has  taken  the  entire 
flat  in  the  fourth  floor  opposite.  In  the 
morning,  when  I  am  sitting  in  the  bay- 
window  working,  I  am  entertained  by  see- 
ing this  young  gentleman  finishing  his 
toilette.  Without  the  slightest  embar- 
rassment he  goes  through  his  process  of 
self -adornment,  such  as  shaving  and  do- 


JULIE'S  DIARY  21 

ing  his  hair  in  front  of  his  bedroom  win- 
dow. The  window-sill  is  filled  with  an 
array  of  jars  and  bottles,  combs  and 
brushes,  and  in  this  laboratory  our  neigh- 
bour works  for  an  hour,  his  face  express- 
ing the  most  profound  seriousness.  I 
have  tried  to  make  him  ashamed  of  him- 
self by  ostentatiously  pulling  down  the 
blind  in  my  window,  but  without  the  slight- 
est effect.  When  I  lowered  the  blind,  he 
merely  glanced  up  at  the  sky  to  see 
whether  the  sun  could  possibly  be  worry- 
ing me,  after  which  he  continued  serenely 
to  part  his  hair.  On  the  whole  I  rather 
like  him.  He  possesses  a  natural  arro- 
gance which  attracts  me,  a  certain  con- 
ceit which  I  envy  him;  I  think  he  is  what 
I  should  call  a  fascinating  rascal.  I'll 
try  to  find  out  who  he  is  and  what  he  is. 

To-morrow  night  Suleima.  How 
lovely  to  go  to  bed  with  the  knowledge 
that  there  is  something  delicious  in  store 
for  me  the  next  day.  Suleima,  oh,  that 
I  were  Suleima!  That  I  were  the  bride 


22  JULIE'S  DIARY 

of  a  handsome  Arab  chief,  and  could  lie 
with  my  beloved  near  the  singing  brook 
under  the  tall  palm-trees,  or  could  fly 
with  him  on  his  fiery  horse  over  the  wide 
plain  under  a  radiant  sky.  Good-night, 
Suleima,  I  will  dream  I  am  in  your  place. 


6th  OF  JAN. 

SULEIMA'  was  a  disappointment. 
Yet  the  music  was  beautiful — 
sensuously  drowsy,  passionately  exultant, 
so  wondrously  free  from  moral  scruples. 
But  only  one  scene  made  an  impression 
on  me.  Suleima  lies  down  to  rest  in  her 
father's  tent,  when  an  hostile  Arab  tribe 
breaks  into  the  camp,  and  the  chief,  lift- 
ing Suleima  from  her  couch,  bears  her 
away  with  him.  Suleima  has  been  dream- 
ing, and  the  abduction  must  be  imagined 
to  be  a  continuation  of  her  dream.  She 
sees  the  white-robed  Sheik  bending  over 
her;  she  meets  his  admiring  gaze,  and 
hardly  awake,  she  allows  herself  to  be 


JULIE'S  DIARY  23 

carried  away,  partly  paralysed  with  fear, 
partly  captivated  by  his  magnetism  and 
by  the  fantastic  violence  of  the  situation. 

The  part  of  the  young  Sheik  was  beau- 
tifully played,  though  perhaps  it  was  not 
intended  that  so  much  passion  and  poetry 
should  be  thrown  into  the  scene  of  the  ab- 
duction. Anyhow,  though  the  part  of 
the  Sheik  was  very  small,  and  he  disap- 
peared altogether  in  the  later  acts,  his  per- 
formance was  for  me  the  most  striking 
feature  of  the  evening. 

I  have  never  seen  this  young  actor  be- 
fore. I  am  sure  he  has  great  talent. 
Now  and  again  I  have  seen  his  name  in 
the  papers,  but  I  do  not  think  that  he  was 
mentioned  in  the  notices  of  the  play. 

His  name  is  Alfred  Morch. 


7th   OF   JAN.    BEFORE  NOON. 

I  HAD  a  curious  dream  last  night.     I 
stood  in  the  desert.     How  I  came 
there  I  do  not  know.     When  the  dream 


24  JULIE'S  DIARY 

began  I  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  a 
great  sand-plain.  I  must  have  walked 
a  long  way,  for  I  was  so  tired  that  I  could 
hardly  move  my  feet,  which  dragged  after 
me  as  if  they  were  chained  with  heavy 
leaden  weights.  Neither  could  I  breathe. 
A  stifling  heat,  which  rilled  my  mouth, 
nose,  and  ears,  stopped  me  from  breathing. 
Yet  no  sun  shone  in  my  desert.  A  grey 
and  woolly  sky  seemed  to  close  down  over 
me  more  and  more.  It  looked  like  a  gi- 
gantic felt  carpet,  which  would  presently 
smother  me.  The  sand  was  not  white, 
but  a  yellow  brown,  and  sulphurous  fume 
ascended  from  it.  I  felt  that  in  a  few 
moments  I  should  be  dead.  I  did  not  re- 
bel. I  did  not  even  try  to  cry  for  help, 
but  wept  quietly.  Then  I  thought  I  be- 
came unconscious,  and  I  dreamt  that  I 
had  fallen  asleep.  In  the  dream  of  my 
dream  I  heard  distant,  soothing  music — I 
remember  thinking  to  myself — 'Now  they 
are  playing  at  my  funeral' — but  the  music 
grew  stronger  and  stronger.  I  heard 


JULIE'S  DIARY  25 

trumpets  and  bassoons  and  joyous  flutes. 
Then  I  seemed  to  float  through  an  atmos- 
phere of  wild  music  which  came  to  me 
from  everywhere,  and  again  I  thought  to 
myself — 'You  must  make  haste  and 
waken,  or  you  will  be  late  for  the  great 
feast/  And  in  my  dream  I  woke.  I 
stood  again  in  the  desert,  but  the  music 
played  on,  and  I  heard  a  voice  call  'Su- 
leimal'  I  looked  round,  and  saw  far 
away  on  the  horizon  something  white  and 
shining,  which  came  nearer  and  nearer  in 
flying  haste.  Then  I  called  out,  'My 
white  Sheik,  my  bridegroom,  my  saviour.' 
All  around  me  it  grew  brighter,  the 
clouds  lifted,  leaving  the  dome  of  heaven 
clear  and  pure.  I  felt  a  fresh  breeze, 
which  came  from  a  stream  close  by,  and 
there  in  a  whirl  of  music  he  rode  towards 
me  on  his  black  horse,  his  white  cloak 
flowing  round  him. 

Then  I  awoke,  and  by  my  bed  stood 
mother  smiling  and  saying,  'You  lazy 
girl,  you  have  slept  far  into  the  morning, 


26  JULIE'S  DIARY 

but  you  looked  so  sweet,  while  you  slept, 
I  had  not  the  heart  to  wake  you.  I  have 
been  standing  here  watching  you  for  the 
last  ten  minutes.' 


8th  OF  JAN. 

ALL  day  yesterday  I  was  in  high  spir- 
its. I  wonder  why,  for  nothing  ex- 
citing happened.  The  hours  passed  with 
the  usual  routine,  and  father  was  as  like 
an  undertaker  as  ever.  All  the  same,  my 
heart  danced  and  sang  within  me,  and 
everything  seemed  bright  and  merry.  I 
astonished  them  all  with  my  gaiety. 
During  our  walk,  mother  had  constantly 
to  remind  me  that  it  was  not  nice  to  laugh 
so  loudly  in  the  streets,  and  in  the  after- 
noon I  paid  Frantz  a  visit  in  his  room. 
I  treated  him  and  myself  to  cigarettes, 
and  he  treated  me  to  a  liqueur.  The  boy 
was  quite  touched  by  my  kindness ;  it  was 
amusing  to  see  how  politely  he  suddenly 


JULIE'S  DIARY  27 

treated  me.  But  when  I  left  he  said, 
'Please  give  him  my  kind  regards.' 

I  suppose  he  thought  Erik  was  the 
cause  of  my  good  spirits.  No ;  the  reason 
was  much  further  from  all  reality.  It 
was  the  Suleima  dream  which  still  lived 
within  me.  How  childish  and  foolish  it 
was.  But  it  was  even  more  foolish  that 
mother's  words  when  I  woke  should  have 
had  their  share  in  my  happy  mood.  'How 
sweet  you  looked  while  you  slept/  these 
words  sounded  all  day  in  my  ears  and 
filled  me  with  tingling  pleasure.  'So  you 
really  can  look  pretty,'  I  said  to  myself, 
'and  after  all  I  am  not  always  such  an 
ugly  darling.'  But  what  a  pity  it  is  that 
my  good  moments  should  only  come  when 
I  am  asleep.  'Miss  Julie  Magens  had 
last  night  a  belle  nuit!'  That  sounds 
very  pretty,  but  unfortunately  neither  I 
nor  any  one  else  has  the  opportunity  to 
admire  the  violet  that  shows  its  beauty 
only  at  night. 

But  so  ridiculously  vain  had  the  moth- 


28  JULIE'S  DIARY 

erly  admiration  made  me,  that  instead  of 
writing  my  diary  last  night,  I  held  a 
grand  review  of  myself  in  front  of  my 
mirror. 

My  mirror  is  not  a  royal  one,  but  only 
a  short  swinging  mirror  in  a  walnut 
frame,  standing  on  a  chest  of  drawers. 
I  put  the  mirror  slantwise,  so  that  I  could 
see  more  of  my  figure.  I  lit  the  two  can- 
dles and  placed  the  lamp  on  the  chest  of 
drawers.  In  this  magical  light  Miss  Julie 
presented  herself  in  all  kinds  of  flattering 
poses,  and  went  through  a  series  of  inim- 
ical gestures.  In  putting  down  the  re- 
sults of  my  review,  I  am  trying  to  be  as 
impartial  as  possible. 

Julie  is  tall  and  rather  bony,  yet,  on  the 
other  hand,  she  is  well  proportioned.  She 
is  narrow  across  the  shoulders  and  the 
hips,  but  at  the  same  time  unusually  slim 
round  her  waist,  so  that  she  is  far  from 
shapeless,  if  she  would  only  hold  herself 
better  than  she  usually  does.  When  seri- 
ous, her  face  is  rather  impossible,  for  her 


JULIE'S  DIARY  29 

nose  is  of  such  quaint  construction  that  it 
rather  disturbs  every  serious  expression. 
Add  to  this  that  nature  intended  her 
mouth  to  be  slightly  open.  When  there- 
fore, in  serious  moods,  the  upper  lip  is 
struggling  to  reach  the  lower  one,  it  gives 
the  face  an  extremely  gloomy  expression, 
naturally  therefore  Julie's  face  is  greatly 
improved  by  a  smile.  The  upper  lip 
falls  into  its  natural  place,  the  large,  even, 
white  teeth  are  seen,  and  even  the  nose 
passes  muster.  But  above  all  the  brown 
eyes  are  made  to  smile.  They  screw 
themselves  up  behind  a  number  of  tiny 
wrinkles,  and  from  their  hiding-place  they 
twinkle  merrily  at  you.  When  Julie 
stands  like  this  with  smiling  face,  the 
dark  hair  falling  over  her  forehead, 
throwing  a  kiss  to  herself  in  the  mirror — 
her  hand  is  slim  and  beautiful — she  is  al- 
most a  dear,  and  even  a  wee  bit — coquet- 
tish. 

The  widow's  daughter  'coquettish!'  the 
disagreeable    Professor    Magens'    'ugly 


30  JULIE'S  DIARY 

kid'  a  dear — no,  my  good  girl,  either  your 
mirror  is  lying,  or  you  are  an  interested 
critic. 

But  all  the  same,  when  Julie  went  to 
bed  after  the  mirrow  review,  she  was  still 
in  high  spirits,  and  as  a  result  she  has  just 
written  a  long  and  kind  letter  to  Erik. 

She  has  nothing  else  to  relate  about  to- 
day. 


9th   TO   11th  OF   JAN. 

SAND — sand — nothing  but  sand.    Oh, 
what's  the  use  of  writing  a  diary 
about  the  days  always — and — ever — the 
— same. 


12th  OF  JAN. 

MY  neighbour  is  beginning  to  interest 
me.  On  the  surface  everything  in 
his  home  seems  to  be  so  quiet  and  correct, 
yet  I  think  this  mysterious  cavalier  is  lead- 
ing an  adventurous  and  fantastic  life. 
One  hardly  ever  sees  him  go  out,  but  he 


JULIE'S  DIARY  31 

receives  many  friends,  and  ladies  also 
come  to  see  him.  One  lady  sometimes 
comes  in  the  morning,  but  he  does  not  al- 
ways receive  her.  Yesterday,  for  in- 
stance, she  left  ten  minutes  after  she  had 
entered  the  house.  But  I  saw  our  neigh- 
bour standing  behind  a  curtain,  peeping 
out  to  see  what  had  become  of  her. 

Poor  little  beauty!  Don't  you  think  I 
saw  how  sad  and  vexed  you  were,  though 
you  tried  to  put  on  a  'don't  care'  expres- 
sion and  without  turning  walked  down  the 
Old  King's  Road  with  very  correct  de- 
meanour. Oh,  you  horrid  man  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street,  how  can  you  be  so 
cruel  to  a  little  love-sick  child. 

Then  there  is  the  other,  the  favourite  I 
have  christened  her.  She  comes  in  the 
afternoon,  and  always  in  a  most  mysteri- 
ous way.  She  drives  up  in  a  one-horse 
coupe,  which  looks  like  a  doctor's  carriage. 
She  is  heavily  veiled  and  wrapped  in  a 
big,  fur  cloak.  Her  tall  and  distin- 
guished figure  makes  a  charming  sil- 


32  JULIE'S  DIARY 

houette  against  the  light  of  the  street  lamp. 
I  believe  that  my  neighbour  is  very  much 
in  love  with  her.  I  always  know  when 
he  is  expecting  her.  He  is  at  the  window 
every  moment;  he  opens  it,  looks  up  and 
down  the  road,  closes  it,  then  goes  back 
into  the  room  to  return  soon  after. 
When  at  last  he  discovers  the  carriage,  he 
quickly  lets  down  the  blind.  For  a  short 
while  his  lonely  shadow  flits  about,  then 
another  appears — a  woman's  shadow. 
Then  both  shadows  glide  away,  and  I 
fancy  that  my  neighbour  and  his  lady 
have  gone  into  the  dining-room,  and  have 
sat  down  at  the  prettily  laid  table,  which 
I  have  seen  being  prepared  by  an  elderly 
country-clad  woman,  who  is  my  neigh- 
bour's housekeeper. 

An  hour  afterwards  the  drawing-room 
is  brightly  lit.  Through  the  laths  of  the 
Venetian  blinds  I  just  get  a  glimpse  of  the 
large  chandelier  with  its  wreath  of  pale 
candles  and  also  of  an  enormous  yellow 
lampshade.  In  one  place  a  lath  is  broken, 


JULIE'S  DIARY  33 

and  through  this  peep-hole  I  can  see  the 
corner  of  a  picture  on  which  the  light  falls 
strongly,  showing  a  woman's  head  and 
naked  arm.  But  my  neighbour  and  his 
guest  I  cannot  see.  They  are  most  likely 
sitting  on  the  high-backed  sofa,  which  is 
partly  hidden  behind  tall  plants,  and  from 
which  one  gets  a  charming  vista  of  the 
other  rooms,  which  are  also  lit,  the  bed- 
room with  its  green  globe  silhouetted  like 
a  dim  moon  against  the  white  of  the  fes- 
tooned blinds. 

On  our  side  of  the  street  it  is  dark,  and 
I  sit  in  the  arm-chair  in  the  bay-window, 
giving  myself  up  to  fancies.  I  am  trying 
to  imagine  myself  over  there  at  our  neigh- 
bour's in  the  lady's  place.  Who  can  she 
be?  Is  it  possible  that  she  can  be  a  nice 
woman,  a  woman  I  might  meet,  a  woman 
belonging  to  good  society,  and  who  per- 
haps, after  she  leaves  our  neighbour's, 
will  go  back  home  to  play  the  virtuous 
daughter  of  respectable  parents  just  like 
me  ?  But  if  I  were  she,  would  it  be  possi- 


34  JULIE'S  DIARY 

ble  for  me  to  return  home  without  any  one 
guessing  that  anything  unusual  had  hap- 
pened to  me,  and  without  feeling  as 
though  I  should  sink  into  the  earth  with 
shame?  No,  no,  impossible.  It  cannot 
be  a  lady  who  visits  our  neighbour.  It  is 
a  despicable  creature,  a  woman  of  the  low- 
est kind.  But  in  that  case,  why  should 
she  be  so  afraid  of  being  seen?  Why 
should  she  arrive  so  carefully  veiled?  A 
woman  of  the  demi-monde  would  not  need 
to  hide  herself.  Besides — I  don't  quite 
know,  but  there  is  something  unmistak- 
ably refined  and  shrinking  in  her  manner, 
something  so  mysterious  and  sweetly- 
criminal  about  her,  when,  after  consider- 
ing a  moment,  she  quickly  opens  the  street 
door.  She  must  be  a  lady.  Perhaps 
even  a  very  distinguished  lady. 

And  so  my  imagination  runs  off  with 
me.  She  is  a  distinguished  lady  visiting 
her  lover.  Who  is  he?  Why  has  he  hid- 
den himself  away  in  this  quiet  suburban 
road?  At  the  last  reception  at  Court, 


JULIE'S  DIARY  35 

when  many  foreign  princes  gathered  in 
the  king's  palace,  they  met.  He  a  foreign 
prince,  and  she  a  Danish  nobleman's  lovely 
daughter.  The  young  prince  became  so 
infatuated  with  the  girl,  that  he  could  not 
forget  her,  and  while  pretending  to  be 
travelling  in  the  Far  East,  he  returned  to 
the  North.  Helped  by  his  silent  and 
faithful  servant,  he  rented  this  out-of-the- 
way  corner,  and  sent  secretly  this  message 
to  his  beloved,  'I  am  here  and  await  you.' 
They  are  together  in  there,  where  it  is 
cosy  and  full  of  warmth  and  perfume. 
The  fire  crackles  in  the  stove,  there  is  wine 
in  the  cut  decanters  and  fruit  in  the  crys- 
tal bowls  on  the  table.  They  are  sitting 
on  the  sofa,  he  puts  his  arm  round  her, 
they  lift  their  glasses  up  against  the  light 
radiating  from  the  numerous  candles. 
They  look  at  the  sparkling  wine,  and  they 
turn  to  one  another  smiling  happily  while 
they  clink  glasses.  Then  he  says,  'My 
dear  and  lovely  one,  the  hours  are  flying 
and  soon  our  happy  meeting  will  be  over, 


36  JULIE'S  DIARY 

tell  me  do  you  love  me  as  much  as  before?' 
She  answers  with  her  arms  round  his  neck 
and  looking  deep  into  his  eyes,  'My  won- 
derful prince,  lay  your  head  on  my  heart 
and  feel  how  it  beats.  It  beats  always 
with  a  stronger  and  stronger  love  for  you.' 
Or  she  kneels  in  front  of  him  in  her 
long,  white  silk  dress;  while  he  gently 
strokes  the  loose,  auburn  hair,  he  says,  'I 
have  loved  many  women,  but  never  have  I 
tasted  such  intoxicating  wine  as  that  which 
I  drink  from  your  lips.  Many  women 
have  told  me  of  their  love,  but  never  have 
I  heard  sweeter  music  than  when  your 
kisses  whisper  to  me — I  love  you.'  She  still 
kneels  looking  up  at  him  with  eyes  in  which 
happy  tears  tremble.  When  all  lights  in 
the  other  houses  are  out  and  only  the  globe 
burns  in  his  room  like  a  dim  moon,  he  leads 
his  beloved  to  the  window,  pulls  the  cur- 
tains back,  and  while  looking  out  on  the 
quiet,  white  winter  night,  he  points  to  the 
window  opposite  and  says,  'Look,  over 
there  lives  a  poor  little  girl,  day  after  day 


JULIE'S  DIARY  37 

she  sits  like  a  caged  bird,  longing,  longing 
without  knowing  for  what.  Feeling  that 
life  contains  more  than  to  sit  behind  a 
closed  window,  painting  roses  and  violets 
on  china.  Vaguely  feeling  that  love  is 
the  artist,  who  paints  roses  on  the  young 
girls'  cheeks  and  violets  in  their  eyes. 
Poor,  pale  little  girl.'  And  she,  the  proud 
and  beautiful  woman  shivers  and  clings 
to  her  lover,  weeping  softly  with  pity  for 
the  unknown  girl  and  with  terror  lest  she 
herself  should  loose  her  own  happiness. 

Thus  I  sit  lost  in  dreams  with  tears  in 
my  eyes  because  the  life  I  lead  seems  so 
empty  and  meaningless,  until  the  noise  of 
a  door  opening  and  a  sudden  light  startles 
me  from  my  fancies.  It  is  father  cross- 
ing the  room  to  go  into  the  hall  to  see  if 
the  evening  paper  has  come. 

He  goes  silently  through  the  room  with 
a  candle  in  his  hand,  and  when  he  returns 
he  says,  'Don't  you  think  it  is  time  to  light 
the  lamp?' 

Then  mother  sits  up  on  the  sofa,  where 


38  JULIE'S  DIARY 

she  has  been  lying  half  asleep — or  perhaps 
been  dreaming  like  I.  I  leave  the  bay- 
window,  fetch  the  matches  and  light  the 
hanging  lamp.  Without  being  in  the 
mood  for  talk,  each  absorbed  in  our  own 
thoughts,  mother  and  I  take  our  work 
from  the  big  basket,  always  filled  with 
stockings  and  linen  which  needs  repair — 
for  in  our  house  things  are  mended  ten 
times  before  they  are  thrown  away. 


16th  or  JAN. 

HOW  foolishly  I  behaved  this  morn- 
ing. Mother  and  I  went  for  our 
usual  walk.  Outside  the  bookshop  in 
New  Street  I  noticed  a  man  in  a  fur-coat, 
just  as  we  passed  him  he  turned  round.  I 
only  saw  his  eyes,  they  met  mine  with  a 
quiet,  piercing  glance.  I  knew  at  once  it 
was  the  actor  from  the  other  night,  the 
'Sheik'  from  Suleima.  I  grew  quite 
faint,  my  blood  seemed  to  stand  still,  rush- 
ing a  moment  after  to  my  head  and  dyeing 


JULIE'S  DIARY  39 

my  face  scarlet.  The  whole  thing  only 
lasted  a  second,  for  he  disappeared  almost 
immediately.  Fortunately  mother  did 
not  notice  my  absurd  behaviour.  I  am  a 
fool!  What  in  the  world  was  the  matter 
with  me?  By  chance  a  stranger  gives  me 
a  casual  look  in  the  street,  and  I  am  para- 
lysed. I  am  furious  with  myself.  I 
should  like  to  give  myself  a  good  beating, 
and  I  am  furious  with  him  too.  This  con- 
ceited actor  imagines,  of  course,  that  he 
has  made  an  overwhelming  impression  on 
me,  made  a  new  conquest  and  a  victory 
very  easily  won. 

How  curiously  things  happen  in  life. 
I  had  not  given  this  man  a  thought  since 
that  romantic  Suleima  dream ;  as  a  matter 
of  fact  I  had  quite  forgotten  him,  and  then 
this  morning  I  meet  him  in  the  street,  and 
this  afternoon  I  hear  him  discussed. 

I  went  to  a  birthday  party  at  my  cousin 
Emmy  Lorentzen.  Emmy,  who  is  thirty- 
seven  years  of  age,  and  the  widow  of  a 
wine  merchant,  is  one  of  the  greatest  chat- 


40  JULIE'S  DIARY 

terboxes  I  know.  Under  a  mask  of  lov- 
ing sympathy  and  in  the  sweetest  way  she 
says  the  most  scandalous  things  about 
everybody  in  the  town,  about  the  people 
she  knows  and  those  she  does  not  know.  I 
admit  her  chatter  interests  me :  one  feels  a 
little  bit  in  the  swim  of  things  after  a  'les- 
son' at  Emmy's.  But  afterwards  I  have 
a  curious  sick  feeling,  when  I  think  of  her 
slimy  besmirching  of  everybody;  I  feel 
dirty  mentally  and  physically,  and  long 
for  a  bath  inside  and  out. 

While  I  was  playing  with  her  two  dear 
little  girls  I  heard  Emmy — who  was  chat- 
tering to  some  like-minded  friends — men- 
tion Alfred  Morch's  name.  I  won't  deny 
I  grew  curious,  and  that  my  thoughts 
wandered  away  from  the  game.  With 
one  ear  I  listened  to  the  whispered  confi- 
dences of  the  gossips,  who  put  their  heads 
together  and  looked  very  impressed  and 
indignantly  delighted. 

What  I  caught  of  the  conversation  was 
the  following :  Alfred  Morch  had  seduced 


JULIE'S  DIARY  41 

a  young  girl,  who  had  since  gone  mad,  and 
whose  brother  had  sworn  to  kill  him.  The 
story  was  quite  true,  for  my  cousin  had 
heard  it  from  a  lady,  whose  charwoman 
was  the  aunt  of  the  servant  of  the  young 
girl's  parents.  But  this  was  not  all.  Mr. 
Morch  had  many  other  crimes  on  his  con- 
science. 'No  woman  can  resist  him,'  said 
Emmy  with  an  expression  of  gloating  in- 
terest in  her  face.  At  this  point  of  the 
conversation  I  asked,  'What  does  it  mean 
that  no  woman  can  resist  this  Mr.  Morch  ? 
What  is  this  mysterious  power  he  pos- 
sesses?' 

'Yes,  my  dear  girl,  you  better  take  care,' 
answered  Emmy.  'I'll  tell  you  what  they 
say  about  Alfred  Morch.  He  hypnotises 
the  women  he  is  interested  in  by  looking 
very  intently  at  them  with  his  shiny  black 
eyes.  He  also  has  a  curious  way  of  tak- 
ing their  hands ;  they  say  it  is  like  a  warm 
stream  rushing  through  their  veins  the  mo- 
ment he  touches  them.' 

Though  I  found  Emmy's  description 


42  JULIE'S  DIARY 

of  this  naughty  Mr.  Morch  extremely  ri- 
diculous, it  was  with  a  certain  amount  of 
anxiety  I  thought  of  my  meeting  with 
him  in  the  morning.  Of  course,  I  showed 
no  concern,  and  asked  in  a  careless  voice, 
'Who  is  he  really,  this  terrible  Don  Juan? 
Where  does  he  come  from?  Surely  as  an 
actor  he  is  not  very  well  known.' 

Then  I  heard  the  following  romantic 
tale.  It  had  been  said  that  his  parents 
were  middle-class  people  in  a  provincial 
town.  But  that  in  reality  his  father  was 
a  very  distinguished  man,  and  his  mother, 
who  was  now  dead,  had  been  governess  in 
the  house  of  a  foreign  diplomat.  But 
this  much  was  certain,  that  from  the  time 
Morch  came  to  Copenhagen  as  a  young 
student,  he  had  had  plenty  of  money  and 
had  a  great  number  of  influential  friends. 
He  had  first  studied  for  the  Bar,  but  for 
the  last  two  years  he  had  been  on  the  stage. 
Some  thought  he  had  great  talent,  but 
most  people  could  not  stand  him  as  an  ac- 
tor. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  43 

'I  thought  him  excellent  in  Suleima/  I 
was  stupid  enough  to  remark. 

'Good  heavens,  child,  he  has  not  half  a 
dozen  words  to  say  in  Suleima' 

'But  perhaps  he  uses  his  eyes  so  much 
the  more,'  added  one  of  the  other  chatter- 
boxes. 

This  made  them  all  laugh,  and  I  forced 
myself  to  laugh  too.  I  had  a  feeling 
there  was  something  for  me  to  hide,  and 
altogether  felt  very  dissatisfied  with  my- 
self. 

But  Emmy  patted  me  on  the  cheek  with 
her  clammy  hand,  and  said,  'Yes,  you  darl- 
ing child,  beware  of  those  dangerous  eyes.' 

On  the  whole  it  was  a  horrid  day.  I 
had  a  feeling  I  had  been  in  bad  company, 
that  I  had  been  roughly  handled  and  had 
not  even  had  pride  enough  to  defend  my- 
self. I  could  cry  with  humiliation.  But 
I  will  now  cleanse  my  thoughts  by  reading 
before  falling  asleep.  I  will  read  E.  P. 
Jacobson's  beautiful  poem  about  King 
Volmer  and  his  love : 


44  JULIE'S  DIARY 

'  All  my  roses  I  have  kissed  to  death, 
While  my  thoughts  flew  forth  to  you.' 


20th  OF  JAN. 

ERIK  will  be  here  in  a  week's  time. 
I  had  a  letter  from  him  this  morn- 
ing. It  is  certainly  high  time  that  he 
came,  for  I  am  going  about  here  allow- 
ing my  mind  to  get  more  and  more  in- 
fluenced by  morbid  thoughts. 

But  this  is  now  going  to  end.  Erik 
will  be  here  bringing  sanity  and  health. 
We  will  have  a  nice  confidential  talk,  and 
I  will  tell  him  straight  out  that  it  is  best 
for  us  both  to  marry  soon.  It  won't  do 
for  me  any  longer  to  try  to  make  up  for 
the  meagre  fare  of  realities  by  feeding  on 
the  unsubstantial  dreams  of  mother's  and 
my  own  fancies. 

Yes,  it  will  be  good  to  get  out  of  all  this, 
to  be  replanted  in  a  strong  and  loving 
earth,  to  feel  one  has  something  to  live 
for,  to  feel  one  has  one's  own  cosy  home, 


JULIE'S  DIARY  45 

where  one  can  breathe  freely,  and  where 
the  air  is  not  full  of  bitterness  and  gloom, 
broken  hopes,  everyday 's  petty  worries. 

Even  not  having  daily  to  look  at 
mother's  sad  face  will  be  a  comfort.  You 
darling  mother,  I  know  it  is  horrid  of  me 
to  feel  like  this.  Yet  you  would  forgive 
me,  if  you  knew  in  what  state  of  mind  I 
am,  and  how  my  young  soul  is  tearing  it- 
self to  pieces  like  a  caged  animal.  I  must 
get  free  one  way  or  another.  It  will  end 
in  my  doing  something  very  foolish  if  my 
hope  in  Erik  fails.  No,  no,  this  must  not 
happen.  Your  name,  Erik,  is  the  talis- 
man I  use  against  all  evil  temptations. 
Also  against  the'  dark  eyes,  which  now 
haunt  my  dreams.  The  dark  eyes  which 
I  despise  and  laugh  at,  but  which  never 
leave  me  alone.  Just  as  I  fancy  I  have 
conquered  them,  they  suddenly  shine  out  at 
me  from  nooks  and  corners,  from  the  folds 
in  the  curtain,  from  the  darkness  in  mv 

V 

room  where  I  lie  awake  at  night.  Their 
radiance  burns.  Suddenly  they  are  there, 


46  JULIE'S  DIARY 

coming  nearer  and  nearer.  They  are  seri- 
ous and  commanding,  they  watch  me  with 
a  sure  and  quiet  force.  They  say  to  me 
'come.'  They  have  been  so  near  to  me 
that  I  have  felt  their  glance  scorch  my 
own  eyes,  and  I  have  caught  myself  start- 
ing up  to  follow. 

But  this  is  madness.  I  have  again  and 
again  said  to  myself:  What  have  these 
eyes  to  do  with  me?  Why  do  they  haunt 
me? 

I  meet  a  man  I  don't  know.  He  looks 
at  me  and  I  behave  like  a  silly  little  school- 
girl. I  listen  to  the  idle  chatter  of  some 
foolish  women.  .  .  .  Well,  what  then? 
Surely  that  ought  to  finish  the  story,  but 
no,  it  only  begins  it.  Though  this  is  not 
quite  true.  Those  eyes  have  haunted  me 
since  the  evening  I  saw  Suleima.  Now  I 
understand  it,  it  was  the  eyes  which  con- 
quered Suleima.  I  don't  remember  at  all 
how  he  looked,  I  don't  even  remember  the 
sound  of  his  voice. 

Surely,  Julie,  you  are  well  on  the  way  to 


JULIE'S  DIARY  47 

madness,  and  it  is  high  time  that  Erik  re- 
turned. I  greet  you,  dear  friend,  I  greet 
your  dear  steadfast  blue  eyes. 


23rd  OF  JAN. 

T  I  iHIS  morning  I  went  into  the  attic  to 
J.  get  some  linen  out  of  a  chest. 
When  I  was  turning  the  things  over  I 
came  across  a  big  black  veil.  I  have  never 
seen  one  so  closely  woven ,  and  it  was  made 
in  the  shape  of  a  hood.  I  put  it  on  and 
could  hardly  see  through  it,  and  when  I 
glanced  at  myself  in  the  old  mirror  hang- 
ing on  the  wall  I  looked  exactly  like  a 
hooded  nun. 

I  wonder  why  mother  got  this  veil  and 
what  she  used  it  for? 

I  meant  to  have  asked  her  to-night,  but 
when  it  came  to  the  point  somehow  I  did 
not  do  it. 


48  JULIE'S  DIARY 

26th  OF  JAN. 

I  SAT  at  the  window  after  lunch.  The 
snow  was  falling  gently  in  big,  soft 
flakes,  just  what  I  always  call  a  real 
Christmas  snow — like  myriads  and  myri- 
ads of  white  winter-birds  slowly  descend- 
ing to  earth.  Along  the  deserted  road 
came  a  carriage  with  white  hood  and  white 
coachman,  making  two  black  lines  in  the 
white  snow.  The  carriage  stopped  out- 
side our  neighbour's  house.  It  was  the 
*  favourite's'  coupe.  She  jumped  out,  and 
had  almost  reached  the  door,  when  she  sud- 
denly turned  round,  threw  back  her  veil 
and  called  out  an  order  to  the  coachman, 
who  had  already  started  on  his  return 
journey.  I  had  only  the  merest  glimpse 
of  her,  but  I  shall  never  forget  it.  I  can- 
not forget  the  radiance  of  victorious  hap- 
piness which  shone  from  her  face  and  fig- 
ure. The  black  fur  coat  stood  open,  and 
she  wore  a  large  bunch  of  pale  pink  roses. 
Her  face  itself  was  like  a  pink  rose,  peep- 
ing out  from  its  frame  of  black  lace. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  49 

With  the  one  hand  she  gracefully  lifted 
her  dress,  with  the  other — her  glove  was 
pale  yellow — she  held  aside  her  veil.  The 
snow-birds  fluttered  down  round  her;  she 
stood  there  like  spring  itself  in  the  snow, 
so  warm  and  young,  so  fair  and  fine. 

Then  the  charming  sight  disappeared 
and  the  street  door  closed  after  her. 

But  suddenly  it  struck  me  that  it  was 
the  first  time  I  had  seen  her  arrive  in 
broad  daylight,  and  that  for  the  last  week 
I  had  not  seen  the  other  young  girl,  who 
usually  visited  our  neighbour  after  lunch. 

Was  she  ill,  or  had  she  gone  away,  or 
was  it  all  over?  Was  the  door  pitilessly 
closed  and  was  her  rival  sole  favourite? 
I  looked  out  upon  the  ugly  black  lines 
drawn  by  the  carriage  on  the  white  snow,  I 
watched  them  slowly  being  filled  with  the 
caressing,  covering  flakes  until  they 
seemed  only  like  faintly  remaining  scars. 


50  JULIE'S  DIARY 

29th  OF  JAN. 

ERIK  has  come.  He  called  for  a  mo- 
ment last  night,  and  to-day  he  has 
been  here  to  dinner.  The  dear  boy!  how 
happy  he  seemed  to  be  with  us  all  again 
and  how  little  he  is  changed.  Life  in  the 
big  towns  has  certainly  not  spoiled  him  or 
made  him  think  less  of  his  old  home.  He 
seems  just  as  bright  and  boyish,  just  as 
good-looking  and  sane,  but  also  just  as 
careless  about  his  personal  appearance. 
The  only  diif  erence  I  could  discover  was 
that  his  reddish-brown  beard  is  pointed 
after  the  French  fashion,  that  his  hair  is 
so  closely  cropped  it  looks  like  a  field  of 
stubble,  and  that  his  moustache  had  grown 
and  was  waxed  at  the  end.  But  his  coat 
hangs  crookedly  as  usual,  with  the  left 
hand  pocket  bulging  from  his  old  habit 
of  thrusting  his  hand  into  it,  and  his  col- 
lar and  tie  were  as  schoolboy-looking  as 
ever,  a  turn-down  collar  and  tiny,  ready- 
made  black  tie. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  51 

He  certainly  needs  feminine  supervi- 
sion. If  Heaven  has  chosen  me  for  this 
duty  I  swear  I  shall  soon  make  him  look 
different.  He  is  good  material  and  could 
soon  be  made  quite  smart-looking.  I 
should  like  to  turn  him  out  a  good  speci- 
men of  modern  progress — smart,  yet  with 
a  certain  quiet  elegance.  He  should  al- 
ways wear  a  well  cut  tail-coat  with  expect- 
ant buttonhole,  dark,  finely-striped  trou- 
sers, shining  top  hat,  brown  English 
gloves,  and  high,  stand-up  collar. 

Yes,  my  dear  boy,  if  it  rests  with  me, 
you  shall  soon  be  made  beautiful.  Just 
wait!  There  cannot  be  two  opinions  that 
our  dinner  to-day  was  quite  gay.  Even 
his  majesty,  cross  papa,  was  graciously 
pleased  to  be  in  decent  humour.  He  had 
quite  an  attack  of  tenderness  for  me — this 
showed  itself  by  his  pinching  my  cheek 
with  two  long  fingers  and  with  a  glimmer 
of  a  smile  behind  the  glasses,  when  he 
said,  'Well,  so  the  professor's  daughter 


52  JULIE'S  DIARY 

need  no  longer  sit  alone  in  the  drawing- 
room,  humming  the  song  she  had  learnt 
by  heart.' 

The  dinner  was  very  good,  and  we  had 
lots  of  red  Italian  wine,  a  relic  of  father's 
gay  Roman  nights.  Erik  was  wonderful. 
He  talked  and  talked  as  if  it  was  really 
a  happy  party.  Father  laughed  and  gur- 
gled till  it  sounded  as  if  water  was  run- 
ning through  a  stopped-up  pipe,  when 
Erik  told  him  of  the  exhibition  of  sym- 
bolistic painting  in  Vienna.  After  all 
Erik  is  more  acute  than  I  thought.  Did 
he  not  sit  there  and  curry  favour  with  my 
academical  father  by  running  down  the 
young  art,  which,  after  all,  is  very  sacred 
to  him.  Well,  I  suppose  all  is  fair  in  love 
and  war. 

With  our  coffee,  we  drank  real  old 
Benedictine  which  in  our  house  is  a  sign 
that  good  fellowship  has  reached  its 
height. 

A  little  later,  I  found  myself  sitting 
alone  with  Erik  on  the  sofa  in  the  draw- 


JULIE'S  DIARY  53 

ing-room.  I  thought  to  myself,  now  it's 
coming.  I  don't  know  if  I  was  pleased 
or  annoyed;  I  only  know  I  found  it  rather 
tactless  and  ridiculous  of  the  others  to 
have  arranged  the  situation  like  this. 
Erik  sat  for  some  moments  pulling  away 
at  his  cigar,  until  the  fire  glared  from  un- 
der the  white  ash.  I  could  see  he  felt 
nervous.  At  last  he  said,  'I  am  so  happy 
to  see  you  again,  Julie/ 

'It  makes  me  happy  too  to  see  you.' 

'I  longed  for  you  so  much  amongst  all 
those  strange  people.' 

'But  you  wrote  very  seldom,  and  such 
short  letters  too.' 

'You  know  how  difficult  it  is  for  me  to 
express  myself  in  letters.' 

'Didn't  you  make  any  friends  at  all  in 
Vienna?' 

'Yes.  I  made  one.  A  Dane  I  met  in 
a  boarding-house  where  I  stayed.  He 
and  I  became  very  good  friends.  I  talked 
to  him  very  often  and  a  great  deal  about 
you.' 


54  JULIE'S  DIARY 

'About  me,  Erik?' 

'Yes;  I  told  him  I  had  a  little  foster- 
sister,  the  daughter  of  the  man  in  whose 
house  I  had  spent  my  student  days,  a 
young  girl  who  had  always  been  so  dear 
and  good  to  me — ' 

'For  whom  you  did  a  thousand  foolish 
things,  and  whom  you  often  saved  from 
the  dark  room  and  her  father's  anger  by 
taking  her  sins  on  your  own  shoulders. 
But  where  is  your  friend  now,  is  he  still 
in  Vienna?' 

'No,  he  left  long  before  I  did;  he  had 
to  be  back  at  the  beginning  of  the  season/ 

'At  the  beginning  of  the  season?' 

'Yes,  he  is  an  actor.' 

'And  his  name?' 

'Alfred  Morch.  Have  you  never  seen 
him?' 

I  do  believe  my  heart  shrieked  within 
me,  but  I  controlled  myself,  and  said  in  a 
careless,  almost  supercilious  way,  'Alfred 
Morch,  yes,  I  have  seen  him  once.  But 
I  don't  think  he  has  much  talent,  he  only 


JULIE'S  DIARY  55 

plays  tiny  parts.  He  is  certainly  not  fa- 
mous, but  he  makes  up  for  it  by  being 
notorious.' 

Erik  laughed,  slightly  irritated.  'Dear 
me,'  he  said,  'do  you  really  listen  to  such 
gossip?  I  thought  you  were  far  to  sen- 
sible for  that.  But  what  do  you 
know?' 

*I  know  that  this  dear  friend  of  yours 
has  seduced  a  young  girl,  and  afterwards 
deserted  her  in  the  most  callous  way.' 

For  a  moment  Erik  sat  silent,  then  he 
said :  'I  can  hardly  believe  it.  It  doesn't 
sound  a  bit  like  Morch.  He  is  one  of  the 
finest  men  I  know.  I  am  sure  he  would 
never  promise  more  than  he  could  fulfil. 
Another  thing  is  that  he  may  have  had 
several  love-affairs.  He  is — and  quite 
rightly — a  great  favourite  with  women, 
and  I  know,  that  he  has  often  had  letters 
asking  him  for  rendezvous.' 

'How  extremely  proud  he  must  be  of 
that,  since  he  has  told  you  about  it.' 

'No,  but  it  amuses  him,  surely  that  is 


56  JULIE'S  DIARY 

quite  natural,  and  he  does  not  answer 
these  flattering  invitations/ 

'But  like  a  true  gentleman,  he  shows  the 
letters  to  his  friends.' 

'Well,  you  need  not  get  so  excited  about 
that,  the  letters  are  anonymous.' 

I  felt  so  unstrung,  I  could  almost  have 
cried — why,  I  really  don't  know.  It 
seemed  to  me  revolting,  yes,  revoltingly 
stupid,  that  Erik  should  sit  there  and  de- 
fend this  actor.  I  had  hoped,  on  the  con- 
trary, that  his  presence  would  have  helped 
me  to  force  the  other  man  out  of  my 
thoughts.  I  fancied  I  had  almost  f  orgot- 
ton  him,  and  then  Erik  comes  and  thrusts 
him  on  me  again.  Of  course  it  was  im- 
possible for  Erik  to  know — and  yet,  he 
was  so  irritating,  as  he  sat  there  defending 
his  friend  with  the  dark  eyes. 

And  you,  dear  solicitous  parents,  how 
we  cheated  you.  You  had  arranged 
everything  so  beautifully  for  your  daugh- 
ter, a  good  dinner,  good  wine,  old  memo- 
ries in  the  firelight,  and  then  when  mama 


JULIE'S  DIARY  57 

came  in  with  the  lamp  followed  by  the 
peeping  and  curious  papa,  they  found  the 
couple  sitting  solemnly  in  each  corner  of 
the  sofa. 

Surely  it  was  a  case  both  for  laughter 
and  for  tears. 


5th  OF  FEB. 

EVERY  time  I  meet  Erik  I  feel  that 
the    proposal    is    burning    on    his 
tongue,  and  as  soon  as  I  feel  that  it  is 
going  to  blaze  out,  I  am  there  at  once 
with  the  hose  to  extinguish  the  fire. 

What  dear  patient  things  such  men  as 
Erik  are.  I  cannot  understand  why  he 
does  not  bang  his  fist  on  the  table  and  say, 
'Now,  that  will  do,  my  good  girl,  no  more 
monkey-tricks  for  me.  Will  you  marry 
me  or  will  you  not?'  I  think  it  would  be 
a  very  good  thing  if  he  would  just  take 
me  by  the  shoulder  and  make  me  behave. 
I  should  like  to  see  him  really  angry.  I 
believe  I  could  love  him  if  he  would  only 


58  JULIE'S  DIARY 

once  make  me  feel  small  and  frightened 
between  his  strong  hands.  But  instead  of 
that  he  just  sits  and  looks  miserable,  fear- 
ing that  I  shall  put  on  that  weary  and 
bored  face  which  I  assume  to  prevent  his 
proposing. 

Why  am  I  like  this?  Is  it  only  sheer 
deviltry,  conceit,  and  joy  in  giving  pain? 
No,  no,  it  is  not  that.  But  I  don't  know 
what  it  is.  I  wonder  if  it  will  be  right  for 
him  and  me  to  marry.  Good  heavens, 
when  I  treat  him  as  I  do  now,  what  will  it 
be  like  when  we  are  married,  and  I  have 
him  all  day  long  from  morning  to  even- 
ing— and  from  evening  to  morning?  I 
do  believe,  I  have  always  had  the  same 
feelings  toward  Erik,  even  from  the  time 
I  was  a  little  kid  of  ten,  and  he  a  big  stu- 
dent of  seventeen.  I  was  very  fond  of 
him,  and  was  always  wanting  to  be  with 
him.  But  in  spite  of  the  difference  in 
our  age,  I  always  tyrannized  over  him.  I 
understood  quite  well  that  I  was  the 
stronger,  and  I  enjoyed  my  power  with  a 


JULIE'S  DIARY  59 

mixture  of  pleasure  and  unconscious 
scorn.  I  remember  especially  one  day  I 
had  worried  him  more  than  usual.  He 
was  very  busy,  and  asked  me  to  leave  him 
in  peace.  But  scarcely  had  I  run  out  of 
the  room  before  I  was  back  again.  I 
tickled  his  nose  with  a  straw,  I  snatched 
his  pencil  from  him,  I  pulled  and  spoiled 
his  drawing,  and  was  altogether  as  abom- 
inable as  a  spoiled  and  naughty  child  can 
be.  At  last  Erik  really  grew  angry.  He 
seized  me  by  the  shoulder,  and  lifted  his 
arm.  .  .  .  When  I  looked  up  at  him 
tauntingly  and  said,  'Yes,  strike  me  if 
you  dare/ 

His  arm  fell,  his  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
and  he  said,  'Dear  little  Julie,  don't  be 
angry  with  me.  I  am  a  horrid  brute.' 

Erik,  Erik,  you  irritatingly  foolish 
man,  why  did  you  not  give  me  the  whack- 
ing I  so  thoroughly  deserved.  Many 
things  might  have  been  different  then. 

What's  the  good  of  mother  taking  me 
to  task  and  telling  me  that  I  am  a  heart- 


60  JULIE'S  DIARY 

less  coquette  and  ought  to  consider  my- 
self a  favoured  mortal  for  having  won 
your  most  excellent  heart. 

That  is  all  very  well ;  but  why  don't  you 
win  my  heart.  Why  don't  you  take  it 
with  the  strong  hand  of  the  conquerer, 
and  for  once  in  a  while  make  me  a  tiny 
bit  afraid.  Don't  always  crouch  always 
so  humbly  at  my  feet  with  that  irritating 
'just  as  you  please,  darling,'  expression 
in  your  face. 


10th  OF  FEB. 

T^ESTERDAY  Erik's  uncle  Mr. 
X  Glerup  gave  a  ball.  I  had  looked 
forward  to  it  in  the  most  childish  way.  It 
was  my  first  ball  this  winter,  and  would 
perhaps  be  my  only  one.  After  all  it 
turned  out  to  be  utter  dullness  and  stu- 
pidity. 

I  was  furious  with  Erik.     How  could 
he  be  so  foolish  and  tactless. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  61 

Now  that  it  is  over,  I  see  it  all  too  well. 
The  ball  was  of  course  meant  to  celebrate 
mine  and  Erik's  engagement.  To  the 
guests,  I  dare  say,  it  was  a  disappointment 
that  they  did  not  get  the  announcement 
as  an  extra  cracker  at  dessert,  and  for 
Erik  it  was  more  than  embarrassing. 
Then  he  thought  he  could  save  the  situa- 
tion by  treating  me  in  a  way  which  made 
everybody  think  that  we  were  engaged, 
only  that  we  preferred  to  keep  it  secret 
at  present. 

I  have  never  seen  Erik  quite  like  this 
before.  He  behaved  as  though  he  were 
a  shopwalker.  He  hovered  round,  paying 
me  silly  compliments.  Yes,  he  even  kissed 
my  hand  during  the  cotillon.  He  ought 
to  be  grateful  I  kept  my  temper  and  did 
not  box  his  ears.  But  when  at  last  in  the 
hall  he  was  helping  me  with  my  snow- 
boots,  and  in  the  presence  of  several 
guests  complimented  me  on  my  graceful 
little  foot,  the  foot  gave  him  very  grace- 
fully, but  very  forcefully,  a  push,  so  that 


62  JULIE'S  DIARY 

he  overbalanced  himself,  stopping  any 
further  remarks  of  this  kind. 

And  the  others,  Erik's  family  as  well 
as  his  friends,  came  with  frequent  illu- 
sions and  amiable  impertinences.  When 
a  partner  invited  me  to  dance,  it  was  done 
with  many  little  knowing  smirks  and 
speeches  such  as:  'If  Miss  Magens  can 
possibly  waste  a  dance  on  me,'  or,  'if  it  is 
allowed,'  and  Erik,  who  scarcely  left  my 
side  all  the  evening,  bowed  with  an  affa- 
ble smile  as  though  he  was  giving  the  per- 
mission. 

When  the  ball  was  over,  Erik  insisted 
on  seeing  me  in  the  cab.  I  whispered  to 
him,  'Please  don't  come,'  and  he  under- 
stood that  I  meant  it  seriously.  I  cried 
all  the  way  home  as  if  I  had  been 
whipped,  and  when  I  got  into  my  room 
I  tore  off  my  pretty  frock  as  if  it  was  a 
rag. 

To  think  how  pretty  I  looked,  and  how 
happy  I  was  when  I  started  off,  and 
mother  herself  tucked  me  into  the  cab.  I 


JULIE'S  DIARY  63 

wore  a  pale  blue  tulle  skirt  and  long 
pointed  bodice  of  silk  with  large  puffs 
of  tulle  on  the  shoulders.  I  love  to  look 
at  myself  in  a  low-necked  bodice,  and  I 
liked  the  tiny  niching  of  lace  between  the 
soft  skin  and  the  coloured  silk.  When  I 
said  good-bye  to  father,  I  noticed  that 
even  he  was  satisfied  with  me.  He  nodded 
approvingly  and  said,  'blue  crocus.'  To- 
day I  am  so  nervous  and  cross  that  no 
body  has  been  able  to  speak  to  me.  I 
would  not  go  out  with  mother,  and  have 
been  sitting  all  day  long  sulking  in  the 
bay-window.  It  rained  and  was  misera- 
ble out  of  doors — grey,  heavy,  and  ter- 
ribly depressing,  and  indoors  everything 
seemed  cold  and  ugly.  The  rooms  looked 
so  worn  and  faded,  so  poor  and  joyless, 
the  black  horsehair  chairs,  the  old  red 
table-cloth  and  the  hideous  bronze  lamp 
hanging  by  its  thin  brass  chains.  I  my- 
self red-eyed  and  weary,  with  stiff  face 
and  feverish  hands,  so  dejected  and  un- 
tidy. Blue  crocus  indeed!  an  unattrac- 


64  JULIE'S  DIARY 

tive  withered  flower  ready  to  be  thrown 
away. 

I  looked  up  and  my  eyes  fell  on  our 
neighbour's  window.  There  he  stood  in 
evening  dress  with  white  buttonhole.  He 
stood  looking  over  at  me  with  a  faint 
smile  on  his  lips. 

I  don't  know  what  came  over  me.  But 
suddenly  I  left  my  place  at  the  window, 
went  into  my  room,  took  out  pen  and 
paper  and  wrote  in  a  disguised  hand: 
'Mr.  Alfred  Morch:  a  young  girl  wishes 
to  ask  you  a  question.  She  will  look  out 
for  you  on  Saturday  the  13th,  at  seven 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  outside  the  North- 
ern Railway  Station/  I  sealed  the  letter, 
addressed  it  to  the  theatre,  put  on  my 
coat  and  hat,  and  took  it  to  a  letterbox. 

To  explain  why  I  did  it  is  quite  impos- 
sible. I  did  not  reason  at  all,  until  it  was 
all  over  and  I  stood  once  more  in  my  own 
room.  Then  I  laughed  quite  hysterically 
and  would  hardly  believe  it  was  not  a 
dream.  No  indeed,  I  had  done  something 


JULIE'S  DIARY  65 

most  unconventional,  I  had  written  to  an 
unknown  man,  an  actor  and  a  well-known 
Don  Juan  into  the  bargain,  asking  for  a 
rendezvous.  Oh  yes,  yes,  I  knew  every- 
thing that  could  be  said,  that  it  was  stark, 
staring  madness,  and  I  am  fit  for  a  luna- 
tic asylum.  Indeed,  I  should  soon  be 
there,  if  my  dear  parents  knew  what  I 
had  done. 

Well,  I  don't  care.  After  all  it  is 
rather  fun  to  have  done  something  really 
terrible,  especially  when,  as  in  this  case, 
it  won't  have  any  consequences. 


12th  or  FEB. 

IT  is  to-morrow  that  I  ought  to  meet 
Mr.    Morch    outside    the    Northern 
Railway  Station.     But  to  do  myself  jus- 
tice I  must  add,  that  I  have  not  for  a  mo- 
ment dreamed  of  going  to  this  rendezvous. 
Of  course  he   won't   be   there   either. 
Erik  said  he  never  took  any  notice  of  the 
anonymous  letters  he  got. 


66  JULIE'S  DIARY 

But  suppose  he  went  after  all.  It 
would  be  awfully  amusing  to  see  him  trot 
up  and  down  at  the  meeting-place.  The 
conceited  idiot  with  his  horrid  black  eyes. 
I  can  see  him  quite  clearly  with  the  fur 
coat  up  to  his  ears  and  the  stock  under  his 
arm. 

How  I  should  like  him  to  go,  and  to 
watch  him  without  being  seen. 

I  think  I  will  invite  Erik  out  for  a  walk 
to-morrow  afternoon.  Then,  should  Mr. 
Morch  be  there,  I  am  sure  I  shall  never 
be  able  to  resist  the  temptation  of  telling 
Erik  that  he  is  waiting  for  me. 


13th  OF  FEB. 

4   A  LL  good  little  pictures  turn  round 
Ji\.    to  the  wall/  and  you,  my  virtuous 
pen,  make  a  blot  over  it  all  1 

I  have  done  something  terrible.  I  have 
sunk  as  deep  as  it  is  possible  for  a  decent 
girl  to  sink,  and  the  sadness  of  it  all  is 
that  it  has  made  me  quite  radiant. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  67 

I  start  herewith  my  sinful  report.  To 
begin  at  the  beginning,  when  I  woke  this 
morning  the  sun  shone  brightly  into  my 
room.  I  jumped  out  of  bed  and  took  my 
cold  tub.  My  heart  was  so  glad,  my  mind 
so  bright,  as  though  I  was  preparing  my- 
self for  a  feast.  I  remember  I  said  to 
myself  while  I  dressed,  'To-night  at  seven 
o'clock  at  the  Northern  Railway  Station 
a  fairy-tale  will  commence,  and  the  name 
of  the  fairy  princess  is  Julie.  Far  away 
in  a  distant  castle,  in  a  big  wondrous 
wood,  Julie  has  heard  of  a  horribly  con- 
ceited man  who  every  day  boasts  of  hav- 
ing conquered  the  hearts  of  innocent  little 
girls.  On  hearing  this  Julie  gets  ex- 
tremely angry  on  behalf  of  her  sex.  She 
swears  a  solemn  oath,  that  she  will  punish 
the  wicked  seducer  and  humble  him  in  the 
dust.  Helped  by  her  clever  servant,  Julie 
sends  her  enemy  this  message:  that  a  vir- 
tuous and  beautiful  maiden  has  become  so 
enamoured  of  his  lustrous  black  eyes,  that 
she  will  await  him  on  Saturday  outside  the 


68  JULIE'S  DIARY 

Northern  Railway  Station.  The  con- 
ceited fool  arrives  at  the  given  time,  sure 
of  an  easy  prey.  He  sees  a  closely-veiled 
princess — in  her  mother's  chest  Julie  has 
found  an  impenetrable  veil  woven  by  good 
fairies — when  he  approaches  her,  the 
princess  breaks  into  mocking  silvery 
laughter  and  disappears.  Afterwards — 
well,  afterwards — the  fairy  tale  ended, 
what  happened  further  I  could  not  im- 
agine. 

But  I  was  quite  clear  on  one  point.  I 
was  not  going  to  the  rendezvous.  Un- 
known and  unrecognized  I  would  go  and 
enjoy  Mr.  Morch's  curiosity  and  listen  to 
his  ensnaring  words,  to  disappear  with  the 
mocking  princess's  laughter. 

After  dinner  I  said  to  mother  that  I 
wanted  to  call  on  Emmy.  She  looked  a 
little  surprised  but  was  really  rather 
pleased,  and  I  started  soon  after.  It  was 
half -past  five  in  the  afternoon.  Earlier 
in  the  day  I  had  fetched  the  fairy-tale  veil 
from  the  attic,  and  I  took  it  with  me  in 


JULIE'S  DIARY  69 

my  pocket.  I  went  in  the  omnibus  to 
Tivoli,  walked  then  to  the  Boulevard 
where  Emmy  lives,  paid  her  a  short  visit — 
to  prove  I  had  been  there — wrapped  my- 
self in  the  veil  on  the  staircase  and  has- 
tened with  beating  heart  to  the  rendez- 
vous. 

From  a  little  distance  I  saw  that  it  was 
five  minutes  past  seven  by  the  station 
clock.  I  was  pleased  that  I  was  not  too 
early.  I  glanced  in  all  directions,  he  had 
not  come.  I  only  saw  a  solitary  cab  wait- 
ing in  the  lonely  white  square  outside  the 
station.  Not  a  soul,  except  the  driver,  to 
be  seen.  I  felt  as  if  a  bucket  of  cold 
water  had  been  thrown  over  my  fairy  tale. 
Here  stood  the  proud  princess  a  perfect 
laughing-stock.  She  had  quite  forgotten 
to  reckon  with  the  possibility  that  nothing 
would  happen  through  the  non-appear- 
ance of  the  conceited  young  man. 

I  had  already  started  on  my  way  back 
when — my  heart  almost  stopped  beating 
— a  tall  figure  came  from  the  other  side  of 


70  JULIE'S  DIARY 

the  cab.  A  tall,  fur-coated  figure.  It 
was  he.  In  a  moment  he  was  at  my  side. 
I  did  not  look  at  him,  I  only  saw  his 
shadow  in  front  of  me,  and  I  heard  his 
voice  saying,  'Lady,  the  cab  is  waiting.' 

This  experienced  impertinence  gave  me 
back  my  self-confidence.  'You  are  mis- 
taken, I  do  not  need  a  cab.'  God  bless 
you,  darling  mother,  for  your  veil,  which 
allowed  me  to  observe  him  while  he  could 
see  nothing  but  my  black  helmet.  With 
some  uncertainty  in  his  glance,  he  tried  in 
vain  to  pierce  through  my  mask.  Then 
he  said,  feeling  his  way,  'Is  it  worth  while 
sending  the  cab  away  at  once?  I  mean 
one  is  always  more  sheltered.'  I  said 
quickly,  'Please,  send  it  away,'  and  I  re- 
joiced in  my  cold-bloodedness.  He  bowed 
slightly  to  me,  went  back  to  the  cab,  paid 
the  driver  and  gave  him  a  message,  and 
the  cab  went  quickly  away  in  the  direction 
of  the  Boulevard. 

We  were  alone.  I  said,  'Let  us  walk 
on,'  and  I  went  towards  the  Klampenborg 


JULIE'S  DIARY  71 

Station,  he  following  at  my  side.  After 
a  short  pause  he  said,  'Well?' 

'Well,'  I  repeated. 

'Well,  dear  lady,  what  was  it  you 
wanted  to  ask  me?' 

Unfortunately  I  had  quite  forgotten  to 
have  a  question  ready,  and  to  gain  time  I 
said,  'It  is  a  wager  between  a  man  and  my- 
self. He  has  bet  me  six  bottles  of  French 
perfume.* 

'And  it  is  I  who  have  to  decide  the 
wager?' 

'Yes,  if  you  will  be  so  kind.  It  means 
a  great  deal  to  me.' 

'Six  bottles  of  French  perfume.  Well, 
let  me  hear.' 

'I  should  like  very  much  to  know — 
please  do  tell  me — is  Morch  your  real 
name  or  your  theatrical  name?' 

He  did  not  answer  at  once.  Just  then 
we  were  passing  a  street  lamp,  and  in  the 
light  he  tried  to  see  my  face  through  the 
veil.  At  last  he  said  in  a  cold  and  sar- 
castic voice,  'And  it  is  merely  to  ask  me  my 


72  JULIE'S  DIARY 

name  that  you  have  arranged  this  meet- 
ing.' 

It  was  evident  he  felt  quite  angry, 
which  amused  me.  I  was  shaking  inside 
with  laughter,  but  said  seriously,  'Yes, 
Mr.  Morch,  if  you  would  be  so  kind  as  to 
do  me  this  service,  I  won't  keep  you  a 
moment  longer.  Probably  some  one  is 
waiting  for  you.' 

I  glanced  at  him.  He  looked  rather 
calm,  but  his  voice  trembled  when  he  an- 
swered, 'You  are  evidently  very  amusing 
or,  forgive  me,  very  foolish.' 

I,  in  an  angelic  voice,  'How  unkindly 
you  speak  to  me.  Have  I  offended  you  ?' 

He,  with  dignified  coldness,  'Offended 
me,  no;  but  to  tell  you  the  truth,  it  seems 
to  me  rather  ridiculous  to  drag  me  out  on 
a  cold  winter  evening  to  this  remote  place, 
simply  to  ask  me  what  my  name  is.' 

I  quietly  and  modestly,  'I  never  thought 
for  a  moment  you  would  come,  for  I  have 
been  told  that  you  get  so  many  anony- 
mous letters.' 


JULIE'S  DIARY  73 

He,  a  little  softened,  'I  came  only  be- 
cause your  handwriting  interested  me. 
Though  disguised,  it  was  so  ladylike,  so 
dainty  and  original/ 

'You  flatter  me,  Mr.  Morch,  but  really 
there  is  nothing  in  the  least  interesting 
about  me,  not  even  the  fact  that  I  am  in 
love  with  you.  Perhaps  you  thought  I 
was?' 

He  looked  as  if  he  wanted  to  bite  my 
head  off,  but  did  not  answer.  We  had 
reached  the  park,  and  at  the  corner  of  the 
Boulevard  I  stopped. 

'I  must  go  home  now,  Mr.  Morch.  I 
wonder  if  you  would  be  kind  enough  to 
answer  my  question.' 

'Only  on  one  condition.' 

*  And  what  is  that?' 

'That  you  show  me  your  face  and  tell 
me  your  name.' 

'But  why?  What  pleasure  can  that 
possibly  be  to  you  ?' 

'Do  you  really  think  my  request  so  un- 


74  JULIE'S  DIARY 

reasonable.  Allow  me?'  and  he  stretched 
out  his  hand  to  lift  my  veil. 

'No,  no,  you  must  not  do  that,'  and  I 
hurried  along  the  path.  He  followed  me. 
Neither  of  us  spoke.  At  last,  when  we 
were  again  walking  quickly  side  by  side, 
I  said,  'How  lovely  the  park  is  with  all 
the  snow-powdered  trees.  It  looks  like  a 
fairy-tale  garden.' 

'Oh,  yes.' 

Snow-powder,  fairy-tale  garden,  and 
all  other  poetical  things  had  evidently  not 
the  slightest  interest  for  him,  and  I 
thought:  the  situation  is  getting  impos- 
sible, he  is  just  as  stupid  and  irritating  as 
Erik. 

Then  suddenly  he  stopped  and  said, 
'Well,  good-bye,  and  many  thanks  for  to- 
night.' 

'And  after  all,  you  won't  fulfil  my 
wish?' 

He  planted  himself  straight  in  front  of 
me  and  looked  at  me — looked  at  me  for  a 
long  time,  I  thought,  and  with  curiously 


JULIE'S  DIARY  75 

cold  eyes,  which  made  me  afraid,  yet  drew 
me  to  him.  Then  he  said  quietly  and  po- 
litely, but  with  a  lovely  ice-cold  distinc- 
tion in  his  tone,  'My  name  is  what  I  am 
called.  I  trust  that  is  your  bet,  and  that 
you  therefore  will  win  your  wager.' 

He  lifted  his  hat  to  me,  and  was  already 
going  away.  When — I  don't  know  why 
— I  would  not,  could  not,  lose  him  in  this 
fashion.  I  tore  the  veil  from  my  face 
and  called,  'Mr.  Morch,'  and  when  he 
turned  I  stood  there  smiling  with  out- 
stretched hand,  saying,  'Don't  be  angry 
with  me  any  longer,  let  us  part  good 
friends.' 

I  have  never  seen  any  human  creature 
change  so  completely.  It  was  as  if  his 
face  was  suddenly  in  the  sunlight,  his  eyes 
shone  gay  and  bright,  his  voice  became 
soft  and  cooing.  We  talked  together  like 
two  comrades,  who  had  known  one  an- 
other for  a  long  time.  He  told  me  he 
knew  my  face  quite  well,  only  he  could  not 
remember  where  he  had  seen  it. 


76  JULIE'S  DIARY 

He  begged  me  again  to  tell  him  my 
name.  'No,'  I  said,  'I  cannot  tell  you 
that  to-day.' 

'Then  another  day,  for  perhaps  you  will 
meet  me  another  day.' 

I  did  not  know  whether  I  wanted  to  say 
yes  or  no,  but  I  said,  'Perhaps';  and  I 
asked  him  just  afterwards,  'Do  tell  me, 
where  did  you  think  of  taking  me  in  that 
cab?' 

'To  a  restaurant  or  to  my  rooms,  just 
as  you  liked.  To  a  place  where  we  could 
sit  in  peace  together  and  drink  a  glass  of 
champagne.' 

'Then  you  really  imagined  that  I  was  a 
lady  of  that  sort?' 

'What  sort?  I  assure  you  all  sorts  of 
ladies  like  drinking  champagne.' 

'Yes,  but  not  with  you.' 

'Do  you  really  mean  that?  Seriously, 
do  you  think  it  would  be  so  terrible  if  we 
two  spent  an  amusing  evening  together?' 

'No,  perhaps  not,  if  you  would  behave 
just  as  nicely  as  you  are  doing  now.' 


JULIE'S  DIARY  77 

'I  will  behave  just  as  you  wish,  you  may 
be  sure  of  that.  Will  you  come  then  and 
dine  with  me  on  Thursday?  I  am  free 
that  evening/ 

In  short,  it  ended  with  my  almost  prom- 
ising to  meet  him  on  Thursday  at  seven 
o'clock  in  the  King's  Square.  He  talked 
me  into  such  a  trusting  state  of  mind,  that 
it  all  seemed  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world.  But  how  it  will  look  to  me  in  the 
morning,  how  I  shall  square  my  con- 
science, and  how  I  shall  manage  to  get 
away  from  home  I  don't  know. 

Well,  sufficient  unto  the  day.  In  the 
worst,  or  rather  the  best,  case,  I  can  stay 
away. 

Then  on  Thursday  evening  Mr.  Morch 
can  wait  at  the  meeting-place  and  look  at 
the  stars.  Besides,  what  pleasure  could  it 
really  be  for  him  to  meet  me. 

He  said  I  was  lovely !    What  a  fib ! 


78  JULIE'S  DIARY 

14th  OF  FEB. 

WHAT  happened  yesterday  seems 
like  a  dream.  But  my  diary 
proves  the  dream  to  be  a  reality.  What 
I  have  done  seems  to  me  so  fantastically 
meaningless,  and  yet  I  think  it  is  the  only 
thing  in  my  life  worth  writing  about. 
But  again  and  again,  I  say  to  myself, 
'You  silly  little  fool,  you  ridiculous  hero- 
ine, who  has  behaved  just  as  unheroically 
as  thousands  of  other  little  girls. 

Yes,  if  I  loved  him  and  he  loved  me. 
But  it  is  nothing  but  a  mood  and  a  fancy 
on  my  side,  and  on  his  a  moment's  sensa- 
tion, a  piquant  chance  which  suddenly 
comes  his  way,  and  on  which  he  graciously 
sacrifices  some  hours  of  his  time. 

To  begin  with,  I  hated  him.  He  had 
suddenly  begun  to  play  a  part  in  my  life, 
he — a  stranger,  a  man  to  whom  I  really 
meant  nothing — had  suddenly  become 
master  of  my  thoughts  and  dreams.  His 


JULIE'S  DIARY  79 

eyes  commanded  me,  and  I  wished  to  free 
myself  from  them  and  from  him. 

Yes,  that  was  how  it  happened.  I  sim- 
ply had  to  meet  him  at  close  quarters,  to 
battle  with  him,  as  one  does  with  a  real 
human  being.  I  had  to  get  the  dream- 
being,  the  Sheik  from  Suleima,  trans- 
formed into  the  actor  Mr.  Morch. 

This  is  the  explanation,  the  excuse  for 
my  asking  him  to  meet  me. 

I  wanted  to  free  myself  from  him,  and 
I  ended  in  promising  to  meet  him  again. 

I  wished  to  feel  myself  his  strong  oppo- 
nent, which  I  was  to  begin  with.  I  en- 
joyed feeling  his  nervousness,  his  stupid 
sulkiness,  and  his  curiosity.  I  played  with 
him,  I  teased  him,  I  tortured  him! 

But  just  as  I  fancied  myself  victorious, 
he  conquered  me.  I  can  still  see  him 
standing  in  front  of  me,  bidding  me  good- 
bye in  polite,  sarcastic  words.  I  felt  his 
glance  like  a  whip  across  my  face,  and 
when  he  turned  to  go  I  suddenly  grew  ter- 


80  JULIE'S  DIARY 

rifled  of  losing  him.  I  called  him  back,  I 
felt  it  was  weakness,  yet  it  made  me 
happy. 

This  stranger!  for  he  is  a  stranger  to 
me,  though  I  have  never  felt  such  good 
friends  with  anyone  before.  It  was  ut- 
terly impossible  to  feel  reserved  and  su- 
perior with  him.  His  words  and  his  voice 
seem  to  draw  me  towards  him  in  such  a 
natural  yet  respectful  way.  There  was 
something  exquisitely  musical  in  the  way 
in  which  he  tuned  his  attitude  to  mine. 
The  only  times  I  have  felt  anything  like 
it  before  have  been  when  dancing  with  a 
partner  who  firmly  and  fearlessly  led  me 
into  the  rhythm  of  the  music.  When  I 
close  my  eyes  I  can  still  hear  his  voice. 
Yes,  indeed,  there  is  rhythm  in  that  voice, 
and  I  feel  as  though  I  was  dancing — a 
languid,  softly  gliding  dance. 

I  hear  his  parting  words  as  he  took  both 
my  hands,  looking  smilingly  into  my  eyes, 
saying,  'Good-bye,  you  very  charming  tin- 


JULIE'S  DIARY  81 

known  girl,  whom  I  am  so  very  happy  to 
have  met.' 

It  is  curious  that  eyes  can  change  so 
much.  In  the  future  his  eyes  will  never 
frighten  me. 

Neither  will  I  be  frightened  of  meeting 
him  again.  On  the  contrary,  it  will  make 
me  happy  and  amuse  me.  If  it  was  only 
not  so  absurdly  reckless. 

But  after  all,  is  it  so  foolish  to  be  reck- 
less? Who  will  thank  me  for  never  doing 
anything  but  what  is  dull  and  proper. 
Why  should  one  be  so  frightened  of  steal- 
ing a  lovely  flower  from  a  garden  along 
the  dusty  road  one  has  to  walk.  I  believe  I 
would  joyfully  climb  the  fence  in  spite  of 
a  torn  gown,  if  it  were  not  for  mother's 
anxious  glances.  Your  sad  eyes,  mother 
dear,  frighten  me.  Should  you  discover 
anything,  you  would  not  be  able  to  under- 
stand. You  would  think  me  a  lost  soul. 
And  yet,  the  veil !  How  did  that  become 
your  property?  When  did  you  have  any 
use  for  that  in  your  life? 


82  JULIE'S  DIARY 

This  veil,  which  whispers  of  secret  wan- 
derings and  to  which  the  scent  of  forbid- 
den flowers  seems  to  cling. 


15th  OF  FEB. 

ERIK  was  here  to-day.  We  talked 
of  nothing  but  Morch.  Erik  asked 
if  I  would  not  like  to  meet  him.  I  an- 
swered, 'No.'  I  made  up  a  story  about  a 
woman  who  knows  him,  and  who  had  told 
me  he  was  a  very  dull  person. 

Of  course  Erik  at  once  began  to  sing 
the  praises  of  his  friend,  treating  this 
woman's  opinion  with  disdain,  not  allow- 
ing her  a  farthing's  worth  of  brains.  Of 
course,  she  was  a  goose  herself,  on  whom 
Morch  could  not  be  supposed  to  waste  his 
wit. 

Yet  I  defended  my  client's  case  clev- 
erly. I  invented  lots  of  new  accusations 
and  faults,  which  I  enjoyed  hearing  Erik 
oppose. 

Poor  Erik,  if  he  only  knew! 


JULIE'S  DIARY  83 

When  mother  and  I  said  good-night  to 
each  other,  we  had  a  big  scene  of  tears  and 
misery.  I  wept  just  because  she  worried 
me  again  about  Erik.  Then  she  wept  be- 
cause I  said  she  was  only  thinking  of  get- 
ting me  out  of  the  house,  and  did  not  care 
at  all  whether  I  should  be  happy  or  un- 
happy. At  last  we  both  wept  in  mutual 
recognition  of  life's  sadness  and  in  mu- 
tual repentence  over  all  the  cruel  things 
we  had  said  to  each  other.  This  home  ex- 
cels in  rain-storms.  I  almost  think  it 
must  be  worse  here  than  in — Bergen. 


16th  OF  FEB. 

IN  case  I  keep  that  rendezvous  to-mor- 
row, I  had  better  look  out  in  good 
time  for  a  'screen.'  For  this  purpose  I 
have  thought  of  Christiane,  the  only  creat- 
ure in  this  world  in  whom  I  can  fully  rely. 
I  have  never  had  any  intimate  friends. 
For  though  Christiane  is  called  my  friend, 
my  slave  would  be  more  the  word.  She  is 


84  JULIE'S  DIARY 

the  daughter  of  a  common  but  well-situ- 
ated man ;  she  went  to  school  with  me,  but 
always  felt  herself  to  be  of  common  clay. 
In  a  moment  of  magnanimity  I  be- 
friended her  and  being  feared  for  my 
sharp  tongue,  nobody  dared  to  oif  end  my 
protegee. 

Christiane  has  ever  since  worshipped 
me  with  faithful  constancy.  But  it  would 
be  far  from  the  truth  to  say  I  have 
spoiled  her.  To  no  human  being  can  I  be 
so  horrid;  she  irritates  me  with  her  cring- 
ing manners  and  frightened  looks,  the 
dog-like  respect  she,  the  tradesman's 
daughter,  feels  for  me,  the  poor  profes- 
sor's daughter,  rouses  my  scorn.  On  the 
other  hand  I  cannot  very  well  do  without 
her.  I  like  to  be  master  over  a  human 
soul,  and  without  a  murmur  she  allows  me 
to  pour  all  my  bad  humour  over  her  head, 
while  she,  radiant  and  happy,  enjoys  my 
sunny  moods. 

My  faithful  Christiane  is  like  a  blond 
pumpkin.  Her  head  is  round  like  a  ball, 


JULIE'S  DIARY  85 

her  hair  thin,  yellowish  and  lustreless,  she 
has  no  eyebrows,  a  bit  of  a  nose,  and  eyes 
like  button-holes.  In  figure  she  is  a 
lump. 

Yet  she  is  not  exactly  what  one  can 
call  ugly.  She  is  only  an  absolute  non- 
entity. She  lacks  all  that  makes  an  indi- 
vidual amongst  the  common  herd  of  hu- 
manity. But  as  she  is,  she  is  happy.  She 
has  no  ambition,  no  wishes  on  her  own  ac- 
count, her  hopes  and  wishes  are  all  for  and 
with  me. 

During  the  last  year  she  has  thought  of 
nothing  but  Erik.  Every  day  she  sits 
thinking  that  now  he  is  going  to  propose, 
and  is  quite  nervous,  when  she  fancies  the 
great  moment  has  come.  Yet  when  to- 
morrow I  call  and  tell  her  that  I  am  going 
to  meet  another  man,  and  that  she  must 
help  me — she  will  certainly  look  a  little  be- 
wildered for  a  moment,  but  she  will  nei- 
ther dream  of  reasoning  with  me  nor  of 
interfering  with  my  plans.  She  will 
quietly  try  to  grasp  that  it  is  not  any 


86  JULIE'S  DIARY 

longer  Erik  and  an  engagement  which  is 
the  order  of  the  day,  but  recklessness  and 
rendezvous,  and  when  the  hour  for  the 
meeting  strikes,  she  will  sit  at  home  with 
a  heart  beating  like  my  own,  and  she  will, 
like  the  horrid  glutton  she  is — enjoy  all 
my  dainty  food  and  champagne  in  her 
thoughts. 


17th  OF  FEB. 

I  AM  most  likely  going  to  the  rendez- 
vous to-morrow.  When  I  have  had 
that  experience  I  will  settle  down.  Again 
I  will  become  a  virtuous  lady,  and  before 
I  accept  Erik's  proposal  I  will,  like  Queen 
Dagmar  in  the  old  ballad,  confess  my  ter- 
rible crime. 

I  called  on  Christiane  this  morning. 
She  became  quite  excited  at  the  idea  that 
we  were  going  to  a  rendezvous.  I  in- 
structed her  in  her  part.  To-morrow  she 
will  come  and  ask  me  to  dinner,  and  she 


JULIE'S  DIARY  87 

will  also  promise  mother,  that  I  shall  be 
seen  safely  home  afterwards. 

There  is  no  social  intercourse  between 
Christiane's  parents  and  mine — they 
hardly  know  each  other  by  sight — and 
there  is,  therefore,  no  possibility  of  being 
discovered. 

Christiane  thought  it  all  extremely  ro- 
mantic and  fascinating.  I  had  really,  in 
the  end,  to  remind  her  that  it  was  not  at 
all  becoming  to  a  young  girl  to  show  so 
much  eagerness. 


18th  OF  FEB. 

LAST  night  as  the  bell  of  St.  Nicho- 
las's struck  seven  o'clock,  a  tall, 
veiled  lady  came  round  the  corner  of  Lit- 
tle King's  Street  out  into  King's  Square. 
A  tall  man  with  a  fur  collar  turned  up  to 
his  ears  steered  straight  towards  her.  A 
cab  followed  the  man.  The  driver  opened 
the  door.  The  mysterious  couple  disap- 


88  JULIE'S  DIARY 

peared  in  the  carriage,  which  quickly 
drove  off. 

A  few  moments  later,  a  cab  stopped  in- 
side a  dark  gateway.  The  driver  pressed 
an  electric  button  near  a  door.  The  door 
opened  at  once,  and  in  the  white  electric 
light  a  most  superior-looking  waiter  stood 
bowing.  He  opened  the  carriage  door ;  a 
man  in  a  fur  coat  assisted  a  heavily-veiled 
lady  to  descend.  The  superior-looking 
person  showed  the  way  up  a  staircase  say- 
ing, 'This  way,  if  you  please.  The  red 
room  is  reserved.' 

This  was  the  promising  and  rather  ro- 
mantic beginning  of  an  evening  which,  on 
the  whole,  was  a  disappointment. 

I  am  almost  ashamed  to  confess  it,  but 
I  was  not  far  from  being  bored.  The 
fete  lasted  three  hours.  We  ate  a  quan- 
tity of  delicious  things,  but  I  had  no  appe- 
tite. We  drank  champagne  of  course, 
but  I  had  to  be  careful  so  that  I  should  not 
look  flushed  when  I  reached  home.  Oth- 
erwise, we  sat  there  talking  to  each  other 


JULIE'S  DIARY  89 

in  most  sedate  fashion  as  though  we  were 
at  a  confirmation  dinner-party  at  Profes- 
sor Magens's. 

But  what  annoyed  me  most  of  all  was 
that  my  Don  Juan  evidently  found  the 
evening  extremely  successful.  After  din- 
ner he  sat  down  in  a  most  comfortable 
easy-chair,  sipped  his  liqueur  and  smoked 
his  cigar  in  leisurely  and  most  careful 
fashion,  while  he  looked  amiably  at  me, 
talking  to  me  in  a  kind,  uncle-like  voice  as 
if  I  was  a  baby. 

In  the  midst  of  it  all  he  asked,  'Well,  is 
it  so  dangerous  after  all  to  drink  cham- 
pagne with  me?' 

Ye  gods,  no!  dangerous,  one  could 
hardly  call  it,  but  not  very  amusing  either. 

I  wonder  was  he  merely  acting  a  part, 
or  is  he,  by  nature,  such  a  cold  fish. 

Just  for  a  moment  after  we  entered  the 
room,  and  the  waiter  had  left  us,  he 
seemed  so  utterly  different.  I  stood  in 
front  of  the  mirror  taking  off  my  hat. 
He  stood  behind,  politely  helping  me. 


90  JULIE'S  DIARY 

When  at  last  I  had  finished  by  smoothing 
my  hair  with  my  pocket-comb,  and  turned 
round,  he  caught  my  hand  and  said,  'Now 
may  I  be  allowed  to  look  at  you?' 

I  asked,  'Well,  is  it  a  disappointment? 
Do  you  regret  you  are  going  to  spend  the 
evening  with  such  an  ugly  girl?' 

'Ugly?  he  answered,  'just  the  reverse.' 
For  a  moment  he  seemed  to  consider  the 
question  before  he  continued,  'I  hope  you 
don't  want  any  compliments.  You  are 
not  beautiful,  but  you  are  quite  lovely. 
Fresh  and  young,  like  leaves  in  May,  with 
a  skin  like  fruit  blossoms,  and  I  have 
never  seen  a  mouth  so  like  a  cherry  be- 
fore/ 

He  said  this  quite  simply,  as  if  he 
wanted  to  strike  a  quiet  note,  but  the 
sound  of  his  voice  was  so  gentle  and  hon- 
est, his  eyes  looked  so  warm  and  happy. 
For  a  moment  a  heavenly  feeling  came 
over  me,  a  feeling  of  bliss,  of  triumph,  of 
weakness. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  91 

I  grew  calm  again,  when,  in  the  most 
matter-of-fact  way,  he  said,  'I  wish  I 
could  be  allowed  to  kiss  you.' 

How  hideous  and  stupid  this  was.  Just 
like  the  other  day  when  he  started  by  say- 
ing that  the  cab  was  waiting. 

I  answered  gravely  and  severely,  'Let 
us  make  a  compact,  Mr.  Morch.  I  am  de- 
lighted to  spend  the  evening  with  you — 
that  unconventionally  I  have  allowed  my- 
self. But  you  will  have  to  behave  in  such 
a  way  that  I  shall  not  have  to  repent  this 
evening  too  much.  Remember  what  you 
promised/ 

'Yes,'  he  said,  'that  is  just  the  reason 
why  I  asked  to  kiss  you.  Had  we  not 
made  that  compact  the  other  day,  I  would 
have  kissed  you  without  permission.  But 
I'll  keep  my  word.  I'll  behave  just  as 
you  wish  me  to,  and  now  we  won't  talk  any 
more  about  that.' 

He  said  it  politely  and  smilingly  with- 
out a  suspicion  of  annoyance  or  disap- 


92  JULIE'S  DIARY 

pointment,  and  the  rest  of  the  evening  he 
was  the  same  polite,  contented,  and  smil- 
ing being.  Yet  how  changed  he  was. 

That  this  indifferent  bon-vivant  who,  at 
dinner  and  afterwards,  affably  enter- 
tained a  young  girl,  he,  of  course,  consid- 
ered a  silly  little  goose,  could  be  the  same 
Romeo  who,  a  moment  before,  had  made 
the  same  little  Juliet  blush — was  still 
more  incomprehensible  than  the  sudden 
change  he  underwent  the  other  day.  I 
wonder  what  he  really  is?  He  does  not 
give  me  the  impression  of  being  an  actor, 
on  the  contrary  he  seems  so  natural.  All 
the  same,  I  have  a  feeling  that  he  is  con- 
stantly acting,  and  it  amuses  him  to  be- 
wilder me  by  playing  first  one  and  then 
another  part. 

Of  course  I  told  him  who  I  was.  I  had 
also  to  keep  my  promise.  I  believe  he 
was  more  than  surprised,  though  he  pre- 
tended it  was  not  the  case.  He  only  said 
'Indeed,'  and  looked  rather  curiously  at 
me.  I  don't  believe  he  thought  I  be- 


JULIE'S  DIARY  93 

longed  to  such  a  good  family.  And  alto- 
gether I  believe  that  throwing  up  my 
anonymity  gave  him  something  to  think 
of.  Shortly  after  he  said,  'Then  you 
know  architect  Glerup?' 

'Yes,  very  well  indeed,  and  so  do  you.' 

'You  know  that?' 

'Yes,  Erik  Glerup  has  often  talked  of 
you.  You  have  a  good  friend  in  him  and 
— an  admirer.' 

'Yes,  Glerup  is  an  enthusiast.' 

I  laughed. 

He :  'Why  do  you  laugh  ?  At  Glerup's 
enthusiasm  for  me?' 

I:  'To  tell  you  the  truth,  yes — I  must 
confess  I  am  a  little  disappointed.' 

Now  one  must  not  think  that  this  disap- 
proving remark  affected  Mr  Morch.  On 
the  contrary  he  smiled  most  pleased,  lifted 
his  glass,  winked  to  me,  and  said:  'Gle- 
rup's health,  Miss  Magens!  I  am  at  all 
events  not  disappointed  to  meet  another 
object  of  his  admiration.' 

How  his  calmness  irritated  me.     Noth- 


94  JULIE'S  DIARY 

ing,  nothing  seems  of  any  importance  to 
him.  As  he  sat  there  in  his  easy-chair  he 
looked  as  if  nothing  in  the  world  could 
shake  him  out  of  his  lazy  content.  I  do 
believe  that  if  the  sky  had  opened  sud- 
denly and  a  couple  of  angels  had  dropped 
down  on  his  knee,  he  would  without  turn- 
ing a  hair  have  drunk  their  health. 
Whether  I  like  him  or  not  is  evidently  of 
no  earthly  consequence  to  him.  I  had  a 
clear  sign  of  this  when  we  drove  away 
from  the  restaurant.  At  my  place  at  the 
table  was  lying  a  beautiful  bouquet.  I 
would  have  preferred  to  have  taken  it  with 
me  as  a  souvenir  of  my  only  romance,  but 
when  I  said  to  him:  'It's  a  pity  about  the 
lovely  flowers,  but  I  don't  think  I  dare 
take  them  home  with  me.'  To  which  he 
drily  answered:  'They  are  certainly  not 
worth  keeping;  they  are  half  faded  al- 
ready.' Truly  one  cannot  call  him  an 
eager  or  poetic  gentleman. 

He  saw  me  into  a  cab  to  the  corner  of 


JULIE'S  DIARY  95 

our  street.  When  nearing  home  he  asked 
me  when  and  where  we  were  going  to  meet 
again.  I  answered  we  were  not  to  meet 
again. 

'Dear  me,'  he  said.  'Why  so  severe?  I 
was  looking  forward  to  seeing  you  at  my 
home;  you  would  be  more  cosy  there  than 
at  a  restaurant.' 

'No,  that  is  quite  impossible.  Besides, 
I  don't  want  to  come.' 

'Oh,  very  well.' 

He  sat  in  deep  thought.  But  when  the 
cab  stopped,  he  said — and  his  voice  had 
again  that  lovely  gentle  sound:  'You  can 
believe  me  or  disbelieve  me  as  you  please. 
But  I  have  never  before  seen  a  young  girl 
as  lovely  as  you,  and  I  am  very,  very  sorry 
that  you  won't  meet  me  again.  Good-bye, 
and  many  thanks  for  this  evening.'  He 
opened  the  cab,  and  when  I  gave  him  my 
hand  in  farewell,  he  bent  his  head  and 
kissed  it. 

'You  can  believe  me  or  disbelieve  me.' 


96  JULIE'S  DIARY 

Yes,  if  I  only  knew  if  he  was  honest  or 
merely  acting.  But  after  all  it  is  finished, 
and  so  much  the  better. 

Absolutely  finished.  He  did  not  even 
propose  a  new  meeting.  Surely  that  does 
not  prove  great  eagerness  on  his  part  to 
see  me  again. 

The  romance  is  finished,  and  it  is  a  good 
thing  that  it  was  not  more  romantic. 
Without  blushing  too  much,  and  in  the 
knowledge  that  it  was  something  quite 
done  with,  I  could  tell  mother,  who  was 
waiting  up  for  me,  a  long  story  about  the 
dinner  at  Christiane's. 

But  think,  if  he  had  not  asked  me  for 
the  kiss — think  if  he  had  continued  the  be- 
witching tune — think  if  he  had  taken  ad- 
vantage of  my  weakness ! 

Are  you  really  a  gentleman,  Mr.  Morch, 
or  merely  a  trifle  stupid? 


JULIE'S  DIARY  97 

19th  OF  FEB. 

/^IHRISTIANE  came  this  morning  to 
V^-/  hear  what  happened  at  the  rendez- 
vous. Not  to  disappoint  her,  and  not  to 
make  myself  ridiculous,  I  gave  her  a  fas- 
cinating description  of  the  evening's  reck- 
less enjoyment.  And  Christiane  being  a 
romantic  soul  fed  on  library  novels,  I  told 
her  that  my  cavalier  had  brought  me  a 
pink  silk  mask,  which  I  put  on  each  time 
the  waiter  entered  the  room,  after  hav- 
ing discreetly  knocked  three  times  at  the 
door. 

For  each  bottle  of  wine  I  uncorked, 
Christiane's  round  face  became  more  and 
more  flushed,  and  at  last  she  asked,  quite 
intoxicated  with  my  description:  'Well, 
Julie,  and  when  did  he  kiss  you?' 

I  should  like  to  have  seen  myself,  when, 
with  my  best  duchess  air,  I  answered: 
'Please,  spare  me  your  housemaid  point  of 
view,  Jane.  Do  you  really  think  it  is 
good  form  to  kiss  at  a  rendezvous?' 


98  JULIE'S  DIARY 

Christiane  answered  in  a  shame-faced 
way,  'I  did  not  think  such  a  thing  quite 
impossible.' 

'Well,  you  see,'  said  I,  out  of  my  great 
experience,  'at  a  rendezvous  amongst  nice 
people,  the  kiss  belongs  to  a  much  later 
period.  The  cavalier  must  pay  his  re- 
spects for  a  long  time  before  he  finally 
kneels  at  the  feet  of  his  lady-love,  and  if 
she  considers  him  worthy,  she  will  reward 
him  by  giving  him  her  hand  and  perhaps 
her  cheek,  which  he  reverently  touches 
with  his  lips.' 

Overwhelmed  with  admiration,  Chris- 
tiane looked  at  me  and  said:  'Yes,  but  to 
be  made  love  to  in  that  way,  one  must  be 
awfully  refined  and  clever.'  I  finished  by 
giving  a  little  lecture  about  the  fact  that 
the  only  reliable  happiness  consisted  in 
conquering  temptation.  Though  my  ren- 
dezvous had  been  extremely  successful, 
and  my  cavalier  had  been  devoted  and 
courteous,  I  had  decided  never  to  see  him 
again. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  99 

Christiane  applauded  my  heroic  deci- 
sion, but  wept  with  pity  when  thinking  of 
the  poor  deserted  shepherd. 

If  she  only  knew  that  the  shepherd's 
name  is  Alfred  Morch,  and  that  he  asks 
his  shepherdess  for  a  kiss  in  exactly  the 
same  voice  in  which  he  would  order  a 
shrimp  sandwich. 


21st  OF  FEB. 

npHANK  heaven  I  took  the  letters 
J.  from  the  postman  this  morning  my- 
self. There  was  a  dunning  letter  from 
my  shoemaker.  I  owe  him  sixteen  crowns 
for  the  patent  leather  shoes  I  bought  for 
the  ball  at  Erik's  uncle's,  and  which 
mother  thought  I  had  paid  for  with  the 
money  I  got  on  the  1st  of  February  from 
Countess  B. 

Unfortunately  no.  For  in  money  af- 
fairs I  am  the  most  careless  person  in  the 
world.  The  money  I  got  from  the  coun- 
tess I  owed  my  dressmaker,  and  the  poor 


100  JULIE'S  DIARY 

soul  declared  that  she  could  not  possibly 
wait  any  longer. 

I  am  in  a  nice  hole.  I  have  made  up 
my  accounts,  which  show  that  I  owe  the 
following:  sixteen  crowns  to  my  shoe- 
maker, who  must  be  paid  soon ;  five  crowns 
to  my  glover,  who  won't  give  long  credit ; 
and  five  crowns  to  Christiane ;  in  all  twen- 
ty-six crowns.  My  assets  being  only  one 
crown  and  fifty  ore  and  nothing  more.  I 
have  finished  the  work  for  the  countess, 
and  have  at  present  no  more  orders,  and 
the  ten  crowns  I  get  from  my  parents  each 
month  vanish  like  dew  before  the  sun. 

What  am  I  to  do?  Mother  cannot  help 
me,  and  besides  I  dare  not  admit  that  I  did 
not  tell  her  the  truth.  Should  I  try 
grandmama?  Still,  it  is  very  difficult  to 
explain  to  her ;  I  fear  I  may  break  down  in 
the  middle  of  my  story.  I  know  of 
course  where  I  could  get  the  money. 
Erik  would  be  quite  delighted  if  I  asked 
him  to  help  me.  But  I  am  ashamed  to  go 
to  him.  Besides  he  might  misunderstand 


JULIE'S  DIARY  101 

me.  If  I  was  engaged  to  him  it  would  be 
a  different  thing,  but  now,  no,  for  my  own 
sake,  I  could  not  possibly  do  it. 

How  disgusting  it  is  to  be  a  young  girl. 
One  is  dependent  on  all  sides — socially, 
morally,  and  economically.  If  only  we 
had  money  enough  the  rest  would  not  mat- 
ter so  much.  Then  one  could  do  as  one 
pleased.  Think  how  lovely  to  be  out  of 
debt,  and  not  to  have  to  deny  oneself  any- 
thing. Not  to  be  obliged  every  time  one 
wants  anything  to  go  to  mother,  who 
again  has  to  go  to  father,  who  grumbles 
and  says  'no'  ten  times  before  he  finally 
consents  to  give  the  money.  How  horrid 
such  money  is  which  one  literally  has  to 
beg  for,  and  which  is  thrown  at  one  with 
surly  words. 

Of  course,  I  could  marry  Erik.  Then 
I  would  be  out  of  all  my  difficulties. 
Erik  would  not  deny  me  anything.  He 
would  be  pleased  to  fulfill  my  every  wish, 
happy  to  see  me  look  as  pretty  as  possible. 

Two  months  ago  I  had  no  doubts  about 


102  JULIE'S  DIARY 

marrying  him.  It  seemed  to  be  a  predes- 
tined thing  not  to  be  altered. 

But  when  he  came,  I  hesitated,  and  now 
it  seems  quite  impossible.  It  seems  like 
throwing  myself  away.  Like  giving  up 
all  greater  happiness  just  to  save  myself 
from  the  little  worries  of  daily  life. 

Perhaps  this  is  only  foolish  imaginings 
for  what  greater  happiness  awaits  me. 
Yet,  I  cannot. 


22nd  OF  FEB. 

LIFE  is  not  so  sad  after  all.  There  is 
a  kind  providence  which  helps  little 
girls  in  distress.  My  providence  takes  the 
form  of  an  old  lady,  who  wears  little  white 
caps  and  sits  on  a  large  sofa,  and  is  called 
grandmama. 

I  rang  the  bell  this  morning  with  a 
trembling  heart.  Old  Marie  opened  the 
door  and  said:  'Oh,  how  nice,  Miss  Julie, 
that  you  have  come  to-day,  my  mistress 
has  been  longing  so  much  to  see  you.' 


JULIE'S  DIARY  103 

I  went  in  to  grandmama,  sat  down  on 
the  visitor's  chair  opposite  the  sofa.  A 
little  refreshment  was  as  usual  arranged 
on  the  table,  a  glass  with  strawberry  li- 
queur and  a  plate  of  biscuits.  Grand- 
mama  sat  looking  at  me  with  her  large, 
quiet  eyes.  I  told  her — a  little  nervously 
— what  I  had  been  doing  since  I  saw  her 
last.  'Eat  something,  child,'  she  said, 
'and  drink  a  glass  of  wine,  that  will  bring 
some  colour  into  your  cheeks.'  I  emptied 
the  glass  in  one  gulp  to  get  courage,  and 
I  began  nibbling  a  biscuit.  But  it  stuck 
in  my  throat.  Meanwhile  I  talked  and 
talked,  but  I  hardly  knew  what  I  said. 
Grandmama's  eyes  never  left  me,  and 
again  she  nodded  thoughtfully.  Sud- 
denly she  said:  'Well,  child,  what  is  the 
matter  with  you?' 

'Nothing  at  all,  grandmama' ;  but  in  the 
same  moment  my  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
Grandmama  nodded  again,  and  said  al- 
most in  a  sly  voice ;  'Get  up,  child,  and  go 
over  to  the  chest  of  drawers.  Pull  out  the 


104  JULIE'S  DIARY 

top  drawer,  and  take  out  the  green  book 
with  numbers  on  it.' 

'Yes,  grandmama,  I  have  got  it.' 

'In  that  book  are  some  blue  pieces  of 
paper,  two  of  them  are  for  you.' 

You  darling  blessed  grandmama,  you 
wisest  and  best  of  all  human  creatures. 

Now  I  am  on  top  again.  The  shoe- 
maker has  got  his  money,  and  the  glover 
can  wait  till  the  first.  I  ought  really  to 
have  paid  him  the  five  crowns,  but  Frantz 
borrowed  them  from  me  as  soon  as  I  got 
home.  Poor  boy,  he  is  hard  up  as  well, 
and  to-day  I  could  not  bear  to  see  him  mis- 
erable. 

Altogether,  it  has  been  a  good  day  for 
me.  Erik  came  this  evening.  He  was 
also  in  good  humour.  We  had  the  fol- 
lowing conversation :  'Do  you  know,  Julie, 
you  are  beginning  to  have  a  great  success. 
People  are  beginning  to  notice  you,  and 
think  you  lovely.' 

'Indeed,  and  may  I  ask  who  do  you 
mean  by  people? 


JULIE'S  DIARY  105 

'Alfred  Morch.' 

I,  inwardly  horrorstricken,  outwardly 
indifferent : 

'But  he  does  not  know  me  at  all.' 

'He  has  seen  you  in  the  street.  He  was 
walking  with  a  friend  who  knew  who  you 
were.  I  tell  you,  he  was  quite  wild  about 
you.  I  have  never  heard  him  speak  with 
so  much  admiration  of  any  other  woman.' 

'I  ought,  I  suppose,  to  feel  extremely 
flattered,  but  you  must  excuse  me,  I  am 
not.  I  don't  value  Mr.  Morch's  opinion 
of  me  in  the  least.' 

But,  of  course,  I  value  his  opinion. 
That  is,  it  amuses  me  that  I  did  after  all 
make  an  impression  on  this  wooden  figure 
that  he  has  not  quite  forgotten  me.  Well, 
well,  this  pleases  me  muchly,  dear  sir. 

I  should  very  much  like  to  know 
whether  he  has  intentionally  filled  Erik's 
ears  with  my  praises,  so  that  it  might 
travel  back  to  me.  Did  he  mean  that 
Erik,  without  knowing  it,  should  do  serv- 


106  JULIE'S  DIARY 

ice  as  postilion  d'amour?  It  is  a  clever 
idea,  but  not  very  refined.  But  should 
Mr.  Morch  have  had  such  intentions,  I 
am,  at  all  events,  pleased  to  know  that  the 
answer  I  have  sent  him  through  his  mes- 
senger is  not  at  all  encouraging. 


25th  OF  FEB. 

ERIK  came  this  afternoon.  When 
we  were  alone,  he  pulled  half -nerv- 
ously a  letter  out  of  his  pocket  and  gave 
it  to  me.  I  did  not  know  the  handwriting, 
and  asked  'Who  is  it  from?' 

'Look  for  yourself,'  he  said.  And 
added,  'Of  course,  it  is  only  a  joke.' 

It  was  a  letter  from  Alfred  Morch,  ask- 
ing Erik  and  me  to  dine  with  him.  My 
first  impulse  was  to  be  angry.  I  thought 
the  joke  was  in  very  bad  taste,  but  just  as 
I  was  going  to  speak  about  it  to  Erik,  my 
eyes  fell  on  the  first  letters  of  the  first 
lines  and  I  read  a  word.  This  stopped 
what  I  was  going  to  say ;  I  blushed,  grew 


JULIE'S  DIARY  107 

embarrassed,  and  finally  left  the  room. 
When  I  got  into  my  own  room  I  spread 
the  letter  out  before  me  and  read  as  fol- 
lows : — 

'  Can  and  will  you,  dear  lady, 
offer  one  of  your  evenings  to 
me,  an  unknown  friend  of 
Erik's?     If  so,  I  hope  you  will  be 
able,  both  of  you,  to  come  before 
long,  say  at  seven-thirty 
on  Thursday  next.     My  address  is 
number  38  Corn-Market  Square. 
Erik  will,  I  trust,  assure  you, 
dear  lady,  of  the  respect  and 
of  the  sincere  admiration  of 

Yours  truly, — ALFRED  MORCH.' 

At  first  glance  there  was  nothing  mys- 
terious or  curious  about  the  letter.  But  if 
one  read  it,  guided  by  subtle  intuition,  the 
first  letters  of  each  line,  a  tiny  letter  ap- 
peared within  the  letter,  a  secret  little  mes- 
sage, saying,  'Come  alone,  do.' 

It  was  impossible  that  this  could  be 
mere  chance.  I  felt  sure  it  was  a  cun- 


108  JULIE'S  DIARY 

ningly  arranged  game;  and  why  should  I 
deny  that  I  thought  it  a  very  amusing  one. 
It  seemed  to  me  so  romantic  and  recklessly 
adventurous,  to  carry  on  a  clandestine  cor- 
respondence in  this  fashion,  a  correspond- 
ence unimportant  and  innocent  to  the  one, 
bringing  secret  messages  to  the  other. 

Quickly  I  wrote  my  answer,  and 
brought  it  in  to  Erik.  With  dignity  I 
handed  it  to  him,  and  asked  him  to  read  it, 
at  the  same  time  expressing  the  hope  that 
in  the  future  I  should  be  spared  his  and 
his  friend's  jokes. 

My  answer  was : — 

'  Dear  Sir: 

Please  accept  mine  and 
Erik's  best  thanks  for  the 
rather  curious  letter  you 
have  sent  us.     I  ought  to  be 
angry,  but  I  think  Erik  is 
possibly  most  to  blame, 
so  therefore  I  forgive  you  both. 

Yours,— F.  M. 

Erik  was  evidently  not  very  pleased 
with  my  answer.  I  hope  it  will  be  more 


JULIE'S  DIARY  109 

appreciated  by  Mr.  Morch,  and  that  he 
will  understand  how  to  find  in  it  that  'per- 
haps' which,  like  a  balance,  weighs  Julie's 
virtue  and  recklessness. 


3rd  OF  MAKCH. 

A  WONDERFUL,  an  unforgetta- 
ble evening.  Never  before  have  I 
had  such  a  good  time.  Now  I  know  what 
it  means  to  be  happy.  It  was  as  beautiful 
as  a  dream,  and  it  is  still  with  me  with  all 
the  vague  mistiness  of  a  dream. 

I  have  been  in  a  bright  and  beautiful 
world,  where  everything  was  radiant,  and 
radiant  in  my  honour;  where  everything 
was  done  to  please  me,  and  where  my 
wishes  were  guessed  and  fulfilled  almost 
before  they  had  shaped  themselves  in  my 
own  mind.  I  have  been  in  a  world  where 
all  speech  seemed  frank  and  amiable, 
where  everything  was  arranged  for  enjoy- 
ment— enjoyment  refined  and  without 
violence,  giving  me  a  feeling  of  unspeak- 


110  JULIE'S  DIARY 

able  content.  I  have  been  to  a  place  of 
peace  and  confidence,  where  nothing  at  all 
seemed  frightening  to  a  shy  little  girl. 

I  remember  it  all  as  a  dream,  a  dream  of 
silver  mist  and  faintest  blue. 

A  trembling  ascent  up  a  creaking  stair- 
case, with  frightened  glances  at  all  the 
names  on  the  doors.  Then  suddenly  a 
suffocating  heart-beat  at  seeing  his  name. 
At  the  same  moment  the  door  is  opened, 
and  a  guiding  hand  gently  draws  me  in. 

In  the  front  room  a  shaded  light.  Be- 
yond, between  portieres,  a  sense  of  warm 
and  festive  cheeriness.  I  am  in  the  midst 
of  a  large  cosy  room.  A  voice  bids  me 
welcome,  a  face  smiles  to  me,  and  the  voice 
continues,  'Thank  you  so  much  for  com- 
ing. I  have  been  longing  for  you. 
Now,  be  a  dear,  and  put  away  all  these 
wraps,  and  let  us  have  a  really  nice  time 
together.'  My  fear  vanishes,  I  feel  calm 
and  confident.  I  give  him  my  hand  and 


JULIE'S  DIARY  111 

we  laugh  to  one  another  like  two  old 
friends  happy  in  meeting  again. 

Immediately  I  am  in  the  enchantment. 
I  am  quickly  at  home  in  these  rooms. 
Though  the  impression  is  one  of  great 
simplicity,  I  have  a  sort  of  feeling  that 
the  furniture  is  old  and  costly,  but  it  all 
seems  to  give  peace  and  comfort  to  soul 
and  body.  I  am  treated  as  mistress  here, 
as  the  lady  of  the  house,  and  I  feel  I  be- 
long to  this  place,  and  to  nowhere  else  in 
the  world. 

I  am  led  in  to  table.  An  elderly  quiet 
woman  brings  in  the  dishes,  changes  the 
plates,  pours  out  the  wine, — everything  is 
done  without  an  order.  The  woman 
seems  to  consider  it  quite  natural  that  I 
am  sitting  at  her  master's  table.  She 
looks  kindly  at  me,  and  I  smile  to  her. 

We  eat,  drink  and  talk.  His  face 
shines  with  kindness  and  pleasure.  I 
never  thought  his  face  could  shine  like 
that.  We  laugh  and  drink  each  other's 
healths,  and  when  the  meal  is  finished  he 


112  JULIE'S  DIARY 

kisses  my  hand,  offers  me  his  arm  and 
leads  me  into  the  sitting-room,  where 
many  candles  and  lamps  are  lit,  without 
giving  any  garish  feeling.  A  sweet  scent 
of  hyacinths  fills  the  room,  and  I  find  de- 
licious rest  in  a  huge  arm-chair,  in  front 
of  which  he  pushes  a  footstool,  while  he 
props  me  up  with  lots  of  pillows.  He 
busies  himself  about  the  room,  offers  me 
a  cigarette  and  yellow  liqueur,  and  does 
not  sit  down  before  he  has  asked  me  if  I 
am  quite  happy,  or  if  there  is  anything 
else  he  can  get  for  me. 

I  wish  I  could  sit  here  for  all  eternity — 
here  in  his  beautiful  room,  where  he 
speaks  so  gaily  and  cleverly  to  me,  and  in 
a  more  refined  way  than  anybody  else  I 
have  ever  known.  He  looks  smilingly  at 
me  with  eyes  which  are  no  longer  black 
and  dangerous,  but  boyish  and  good.  I 
feel  as  though  I  could  allow  myself  to  be 
a  little  foolish,  just  to  be  a  child,  and  to 
look  up  to  him  as  to  the  very  best  parent 
in  the  world. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  113 

It  does  not  help  me  at  all  that  I  say  to 
myself  that  I  am  silly,  and  that  he  is  per- 
haps only  laughing  at  me,  taking  it  all  as 
a  joke.  Nobody  in  all  the  world  has  ever 
been  to  me  as  he  was  to-night,  so  perfect, 
so  wonderful.  If  any  evil  or  cunning 
thought  was  in  his  mind,  I  won't  ask,  I 
won't  know.  I  only  know  that  now  I 
cannot  let  him  go,  and  that  he  did  not  need 
to  ask  me  to  come  again,  I  should  have 
come  all  the  same.  I  know  that  I  love 
him,  that  I  am  unspeakably  happy,  and 
that  I  shall  pass  all  the  night  in  tears. 


4th  OF  MARCH. 

I  HAVE  gone  about  in  a  dream  all 
day.  I  hardly  know  what  I  have 
said  and  done.  I  remember  only  that  I 
have  felt  curiously  and  sweetly  sad,  that  I 
have  found  everything  beautiful  and 
everybody  good.  I  myself  have  been 
sweet  and  good  too,  and  feel  as  if  I  must 


114  JULIE'S  DIARY 

show  them  all  here  at  home  how  much  I 
love  them. 

I  went  for  a  lovely  walk  with  mother  in 
the  beautiful  spring  weather,  the  first  real 
spring  day  we  have  had.  Now  I  am  de- 
lightfully tired,  longing  for  sleep — for 
sleep  and  dreams. 


10th  OF  MAECH. 

I  LIVE  in  eternal  restlessness.  Every 
day  drives  me  along  in  a  whirl  of  fear 
and  devil-me-carishness,  heaven-blue  joy, 
and  black  despair.  Whither  will  it  lead? 
What  do  I  wish,  and  what  will  he  do  with 
me? 

But  through  it  all  I  hear  the  terrifying 
and  ever-returning  cry:  'Does  he  love 
you?  or  is  he  only  a  little  bit  more  in  love 
with  you  than  with  any  other  young  girl 
he  meets  on  his  way?' 

I  was  with  him  again  yesterday.  I  had 
hoped  he  would  say  something  which 


JULIE'S  DIARY  115 

would  make  me  understand  him  better. 
But  he  was  just  the  same  dear,  gentle  and 
bewilderingly  sweet  being,  but,  at  the 
same  time,  so  absolutely  passive,  so  ret- 
icent, so  elusive. 

Yet  I  tried  to  break  through  his  reserve 
a  little,  and  asked:  'What  did  you  really 
think  of  me  the  day  you  got  my  letter?' 

4 1  thought  it  was  from  a  lady  who  was 
in  love  with  me,'  he  answered  most  calmly. 

'But  when  you  heard  it  was  only  a 
wager,  what  did  you  think  ?' 

He  looked  smilingly  at  me  before  he 
answered:  'Well,  to  be  perfectly  frank,  I 
did  not  believe  it  for  a  moment.' 

'Then  you  thought  all  the  same  I  was  in 
love  with  you?' 

'No,  but  when  I  saw  you,  I  hoped  you 
would  be/ 

I  was  silent  for  a  while,  then  I  ventured 
to  ask  the  following  question:  'But  if  I 
should  fall  in  love  with  you — of  course 
you  know  that  is  not  the  case  now — but 
if?' 


116  JULIE'S  DIARY 

'Then,  it  would  make  me  very  happy.' 

'But  it  would  be  a  pity  for  me — for  you 
— well  you ' 

Then  it  was  he  should  have  said  the 
words  I  was  hoping  and  waiting  for,  but 
instead  he  only  answered  as  if  he  wished 
to  finish  the  discussion :  'Dear  lady,  that  is 
a  question  we  need  not  discuss.  I  can 
only  repeat  what  I  said  the  first  time  we 
met:  You  need  fear  nothing  from  me;  I 
will  never  ask  you  for  more  than  you  will 
give  of  your  own  free  will.  I  leave  the 
development  of  our  friendship  entirely  in 
your  hands.  I  am  pleased  and  grateful 
when  you  come  here  as  my  friend;  it  is  a 
joy  for  me  just  to  see  you  in  my  rooms. 
But  (this  with  a  smile)  should  the  day 
ever  come  when  you  will  give  me  more 
than  your  friendship,  you  know  it  will 
make  me  intensely  happy.' 

Of  course,  in  a  way,  it  is  extremely  nice 
and  correct  of  him  to  ask  nothing,  and  yet 
if  he  was  really  in  love  with  me,  would  he 
be  so  discreet,  and  is  his  discretion  any- 


JULIE'S  DIARY  117 

thing  else  but  cautiousness,  fear  of  re- 
sponsibility and  worry? 

Sometimes,  when  I  think  of  him,  I  long 
to  hurt  him,  to  tear  the  mask  off  his  face, 
to  pull  him  to  pieces,  to  see  if  there  is  any 
passion  behind.  I  wonder  if  he  can  laugh 
loudly.  I  wonder  if  he  can  cry.  I  won- 
der if  he  can  feel  deeply  like  other  human 
creatures.  In  my  thoughts  I  can  hate 
him  and  his  ever-smiling  amiability,  his  su- 
periority, his  perfect  correctness.  He  is 
like  a  machine,  not  a  creature  of  blood  and 
heart  and  nerves.  But  I  know  that  when 
I  see  him,  when  I  am  with  him,  all  revolt 
dies  away  in  my  soul ;  his  calm  and  smiling 
eyes  kill  all  will-power  in  me.  His  firm 
tranquillity  conquers  my  thoughts,  so  that 
I  have  only  one  idea, — to  please  him,  to 
bow  down  and  obey  him. 

He  says  that  the  development  of  our 
friendship  is  in  my  hands.  As  though  he 
did  not  know,  that  he  holds  me  in  his 
hands,  and  can  do  with  me  as  he  pleases. 


118  JULIE'S  DIARY 

12th  OF  MAECH. 

I  AM  terrified  with  myself.  I,  who 
have  never  done  a  thing  without  con- 
fiding in  mother,  now  lie  to  her  like  a 
trooper.  How  low,  disgusting,  and  un- 
dignified it  is  to  lie  like  this.  In  reality 
I  am  not  at  all  ashamed  that  I  love  him 
and  go  to  see  him.  It  is  the  only  thing  of 
value  in  my  life.  I  feel  that  I  am  grow- 
ing through  my  love.  Before  I  felt  I 
was  in  the  shade,  now  I  am  growing  in 
richness  and  colouring  in  the  sunshine. 
Why  should  it  then  be  necessary  to  sully 
and  degrade  my  happiness  with  denial 
and  untruth? 

But  if  I  was  honest;  if  I  told  the  truth, 
one  of  two  things  would  happen:  either 
that  I  should  have  to  give  him  up,  or  that 
I  should  leave  my  home  to  go — where? 
The  first  I  cannot  do,  and  the  second  I 
dare  not;  yet  if  he  should  say  'come  to  me.' 
But  he  will  never,  never  do  that.  I  would 
not  ask  such  a  sacrifice  of  him.  There- 


JULIE'S  DIARY  119 

fore  I  have  no  choice,  and  I  must  lie  and 
lie  again,  steal  away  to  my  happiness, 
sneak  away  from  home  with  terror  in  my 
heart,  being  prepared  on  my  return  to  be 
received  with  the  awful  words:  'You  are 
found  out.' 

I  lie  till  I  am  hot  all  over  with  shame. 
I  lie  madly,  unable  any  longer  to  find  rea- 
sonable excuses  for  my  constantly  going 
out.  I  cannot  understand  that  mother 
has  not  yet  noticed  anything. 

The  most  revolting  thing  is  that  I  have 
to  hide  my  love  for  him  under  a  mask  of 
friendship  for  Christiane.  To  have  to 
deny  him,  who  is  my  pride,  and  swear  al- 
legiance to  Christiane,  to  force  myself  to 
be  nice  to  her  to  secure  her  help. 

Already,  knowing  how  necessary  she  is 
to  me,  she  has  started  to  treat  me  in  a  con- 
ceited and  aggressive  manner.  With  her 
questions  she  offends  what  seems  most 
sacred  to  me,  and  with  her  coarse,  plebeian 
greediness  she  fumbles  all  over  the  dearest 


120  JULIE'S  DIARY 

secrets  of  my  soul;  those  I  hardly  dare  to 
reveal  to  myself.  I  get  so  angry  with  her 
that  I  could  hit  her  round,  fat  face. 

Even  you,  my  not-much-loved  papa,  I 
could  have  kissed  yesterday,  when  you  said 
at  dinner:  'What  on  earth  does  your  sud- 
den passion  for  Christiane  mean?  She 
looks,  Heaven  help  her,  nothing  more 
than  a  vegetable  marrow  on  two  sticks.' 


16th  OF  MARCH. 

HE  asked  me  to-night  if  I  was  going 
to  marry  Erik.     I  answered  wil- 
fully in  an  undecided  way.     I  wanted  to 
see  what  impression  it  made  on  him. 

He  answered:  'Erik  will  make  a  good 
husband,  which  is  more  than  I  can  say  of 
myself.  I  belong  to  the  people  who  are 
charming  to  meet  now  and  again  but  who 
are  intolerable  in  daily  life.  I  am  cross 
and  difficult,  and  when  I  am  studying  a 
part  I  am  quite  impossible.  You  will 
hardly  believe  it,  but  there  are  days  when 


JULIE'S  DIARY  121 

it  is  absolute  torture  to  me  to  speak  to  a 
human  being.  My  wife  would  certainly 
not  have  an  easy  time  of  it.' 

To  this  I  said :  'Thanks  for  the  warning. 
You  need  not  be  afraid.  I  don't  want  to 
marry  you.  I  have  never  looked  upon 
you  as  a  candidate  for  marriage.' 

Later  he  returned  to  the  same  subject: 
'Then  you  could  imagine  marrying  Erik?' 

He  sat  near  me  on  the  sofa,  my  right 
hand  rested  on  the  table  in  front  of  us. 
As  I  did  not  answer  at  once,  he  took  my 
hand  and  repeated  his  question  in  a  whis- 
per. Then  I  said,  or  I  believe  I  said,  that 
I  fancied  there  had  been  a  time  when  I 
really  meant  to  marry  Erik,  but  that  now 
—'Well?'  I  heard  him  whisper,  'Now  I 
know  it  is  impossible.'  'And  why?'  his 
face  was  close  to  mine,  his  eyes  looked  so 
imploringly  and  warmly  into  mine,  I  felt 
the  blood  rush  into  my  face,  everything 
became  vague  and  hazy,  I  felt  faint,  and 
then — well — then  he  had  kissed  me  and  I 
him,  and  I  heard  him  say  'thou'  to  me,  and 


122  JULIE'S  DIARY 

it  seemed  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world  that  I  also  said  'thou'  to  him.  I 
don't  remember  anything  more  than  that 
he  held  me  in  his  arms,  and  I  heard  him 
say,  in  a  voice  which  still  trembles  in  my 
ears  and  makes  my  heart  beat  with  joy, 
'My  own  darling  little  girl,  my  beautiful 
little  girl.' 

Yes,  one  thing  I  remember,  that  I  said 
to  him,  'But  I  am  not  the  least  bit  beauti- 
ful,' and  he  answered:  'You  are  more 
beautiful  than  anybody  else:  you  are  the 
whitest,  the  daintiest,  and  the  sweetest  in 
the  world.  You  are  just  what  the  old 
poets  call  a — virgin-flower.' 

When  I  came  home,  I  had  to  look  in 
my  mirror,  and,  lo  and  behold,  I  really 
thought  that  I  looked  quite  sweet.  I  am 
sure  that  is  what  one  calls  suggestion. 
He  fancies  me  beautiful  and  I  become 
beautiful. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  123 

20th  OF  MARCH. 

I  AM  afraid  of  my  diary.  Several 
times  I  have  taken  it  out  and  put  it 
back  again  without  writing  a  word  in  it, 
for  in  front  of  that  I  have  to  look  truth 
in  the  face,  to  account  for  myself  and  to 
make  it  quite  clear,  what  is  happening  to 
me.  I  dare  not  look  at  the  present  or  into 
the  future. 

I  know  that  I  am  on  a  slope  and  that 
the  way  irrevocably  goes  downwards.  I 
fear  all  the  terror,  all  the  misery  lurking 
in  the  depths,  and  yet  I  am  drawn  irre- 
sistibly towards  them.  For  each  step  I 
pull  myself  back,  I  seem  to  slip  two  for- 
wards. I  hear  already  the  roar  from 
down  below,  I  feel  the  cold  splash  of  the 
waves.  Even  God  cannot  help  me,  for 
I  will,  I  must  go  down.  I  dare  not  think, 
I  dare  not  feel.  Only  when  I  am  with 
him,  I  am  at  peace.  When  he  speaks  to 
me,  the  warning  bell  of  home  ceases  to 
ring  in  my  ears.  When  he  looks  at  me, 
the  threatening  pictures  vanish  before  my 


124  JULIE'S  DIARY 

eyes,  and  I  see  only  flowers  and  sunshine, 
and  all  the  most  beautiful  things  in  the 
world.  When  he  holds  my  hands,  I  know 
that  whither  the  road  leads,  it  leads  to  hap- 
piness. In  his  arms,  everything  which  is 
outside  him  is  forgotten,  dead,  and  left 
behind  as  the  maid  sings  in  the  old  ballad : 
'He  fills  my  ears,  he  fills  my  mouth,  and  he 
my  sea-king  bears  me  down  to  his  palace 
deep  under  the  sea !' 


22nd  OF  MARCH. 

THERE  is  disturbance  in  our  neigh- 
bour's camp  over  the  way.  Yester- 
day the  grand-piano  was  taken  away,  and 
to-day  workmen  took  up  the  carpets  in  the 
flat.  I  wonder  if  he  is  breaking-up  his 
home.  I  shall  miss  him  a  little.  It  seems 
as  though  I  knew  him  quite  well,  and  when 
we  looked  over  at  each  other,  it  was  as  if 
we  had  mutual  secrets. 

Curiously  enough  I  have  never  found 
out  who  he  is  and  what  his  name  is?     I 


JULIE'S  DIARY  125 

don't  know  why,  but  somehow  I  have 
never  liked  to  ask  our  maid,  who,  I 
am  sure,  would  have  been  able  to  tell 
me.  I  preferred  to  keep  him  as  a 
mystery,  and  have  been  quite  afraid  to 
find  out  some  day  that  his  name  was  Pe- 
tersen,  and  that  he  might,  for  that  matter, 
be  a  grocer  or  something  equally  ordinary. 

I  cannot  help  smiling  when  I  think  that, 
in  my  thoughts,  he  has  even  played  the 
part  of  a  prince.  I  was  only  a  child  then, 
who  knew  nothing  of  life,  who  only  lived 
in  dreams.  Beautiful  and  delightful  it 
was  to  dream,  but  it  is  a  thousandfold 
more  beautiful  and  delightful  to  live,  at 
least  when  one  is  in  love.  I  ought  to  add, 
especially  when  the  loved  one  is  dearer  and 
more  beautiful  than  even  the  prince  of 
Illyria. 

To-morrow  I  am  going  to  my  prince. 
I  am  going  in  my  sweetest  frock  and  can 
make  myself  look  as  pretty  as  possible,  for 
they  think  at  home  that  I  am  going  to  a 
small  dance  at  Christiane's.  I  was  not 


126  JULIE'S  DIARY 

more  excited  when  I  went  to  my  first 
grown-up  ball.  My  mind  is  like  the  sky 
on  an  April  day,  now  radiant,  dancing 
sunshine,  now  heavy,  lowering  clouds. 


23rd-24th   OF   MARCH,    1.30    NIGHT. 

I  GOT  through  all  right.  Though  the 
gods  alone  know  how.  I  had  pre- 
pared nothing  to  say,  but  rattled  along 
about  the  food,  about  who  had  been  there 
and  all  that  kind  of  thing;  said  at  last  I 
had  a  headache,  and  got  quickly  away 
from  further  motherly  inquisitiveness. 

And  now  quickly  to  bed,  down,  down 
under  the  clothes  to  hide  myself  away  and 
not  think.  Sleep  away  from  all  thoughts. 
Though  why — why  should  I  not  think. 
Why  not  think  the  only  thought  which  is 
in  my  mind — that  I  am  yours,  yours. 
Yours  I  am  of  my  own  free  will,  because 
you  are  more  to  me  than  father  and 
mother  and  everything  in  the  world.  Be- 
cause everything  else  means  nothing  to 


JULIE'S  DIARY  127 

me,  if  I  may  only  be  in  your  life,  if  I  may 
only  be  allowed  to  love  you,  and  you  will 
be  good  to  me. 

You,  my  only  one,  my  dear  one,  good- 
night; my  thoughts  go  out  to  you  with  a 
thousand  kisses,  ah,  may  they  meet  yours. 


24th  OF  MARCH. 

WHEN  I  woke  up  late  this  morning 
— because  I  did  not  fall  asleep  till 
it  was  almost  morning — I  said  to  myself, 
even  before  I  had  opened  my  eyes:  'This 
will  be  a  sad  day  for  you.'  But  in  the 
same  moment  my  eyes  met  the  clear  sun- 
shine of  the  day,  there  rose  within  me,  like 
the  song  of  the  lark,  'Good-morning,  fair 
maiden,  good-morning  to  all  life's  de- 
lights.' 

And  I  jumped  out  of  bed,  looked  into 
the  glass,  and  saw  clear  eyes,  blushing 
cheeks,  and  a  dimple  like  a  kiss.  The 
whole  has  been  a  great  surprise  to  me.  A 
surprise  that  I  am  not  unhappy,  but  most 


128  JULIE'S  DIARY 

of  all  a  surprise  because  nobody  seems  to 
have  discovered  the  slightest  change  in  me. 

Therefore,  apparently,  I  must  be  the 
same  as  before.  No  red  cross  on  my  fore- 
head, no  black  mark  on  my  nose.  The 
same  to  every  one  except  to  myself.  For 
to  me  it  is,  as  if  from  the  narrow  chrysalis, 
which  shrouded  life's  wonderful  meaning, 
I  had  flown  out  to  the  radiant  brightness 
of  revelation,  as  a  butterfly  intoxicated 
with  happiness.  Before,  my  walk  was 
heavy,  now  it  is  as  if  I  glided  lightly  over 
life's  worries  as  if  I  had  wings,  bearing 
me  away  from  all  difficulties.  I  stand  on 
an  earth  which  lifts  itself  under  me,  and 
I  embrace  a  heaven  which  lowers  itself 
over  me.  Joyous  music  is  round  me  and 
I  myself  am  like  a  song,  rising  upwards 
and  upwards. 

What  does  it  mean  to  lie?  To  have  a 
secret  so  sweet  and  glorious,  that  one  can- 
not share  it  with  any  one.  It  is  easy  to 
lie,  but  a  lie  is  a  hideous  word  with  a  beau- 
tiful meaning.  What  else  does  the  sun 


JULIE'S  DIARY  129 

do,  when  hidden  behind  the  clouds,  it  lets 
a  lonely  little  ray  steal  out  to  the  violet  on 
the  bank?  What  else  do  the  birds  do, 
when  they  play  hide-and-seek  behind  the 
foliage  of  the  trees? 

I  walked  through  the  town  to-day.  I 
met  thousands  of  people.  What  did  they 
see  in  me?  A  young  girl  like  thousands 
of  other  young  girls,  who  goes  for  a  walk 
guarded  and  protected  by  her  mother. 
But  what  they  did  not  see,  what  they  were 
not  allowed  to  see,  because  it  was  her 
glorious  secret,  was  the  glance  the  young 
girl  exchanged  with  a  young  man  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street — what  they  did  not 
see  was  that  at  the  corner  she  took  two 
bunches  of  violets  from  the  flower-girl, 
lifted  them  to  her  lips  and  only  bought 
one,  while  he  at  once  bought  the  other  one, 
which  he  kissed. 

How  splendid  it  is  to  be  alive,  how 
splendid  it  is  to  be  young.  Let  come 
what  may.  Let  the  future  be  ever  so 
black.  That  happiness  which  now  raises 


130  JULIE'S  DIARY 

itself  like  a  golden  temple  in  my  heart  will 
throw  its  reflex  through  all  the  darkness 
of  time. 

And  now,  beloved,  bend  your  head  close 
to  me  and  let  me  fill  your  ears  with  my 
joyous  confession,  so  that  you  shall  not 
forget  it — I  am  happy,  happier  than  any 
word  in  the  language  can  say,  for  all  the 
words  are  made  for  commerce  and  traffic 
and  not  for  the  joy  of  lovers.  I  am 
happy  to  be  yours,  happy  that  you  have 
chosen  me — good-night. 


25th  OF  MAECH. 

WHEN  this  morning  I  sat  in  the 
open  window  enjoying  the  sunny 
spring  air,  I  saw  my  neighbour  busily  oc- 
cupied. He  was  packing  books  and  pic- 
tures into  a  big  box.  While  he  was  thus 
occupied,  the  favourite's  carriage  came 
driving  up.  On  hearing  the  carriage,  he 
glanced  quickly  along  the  road,  and  hast- 
ened to  draw  the  curtains  over  the  win- 


JULIE'S  DIARY  131 

dow.  The  lady  got  out  and  as  usual  the 
carriage  drove  away.  I  thought  no  more 
of  this  and  had  already  forgotten  my 
neighbour  and  his  friend.  I  sat  looking 
out  into  the  bright  spring  day  and  my 
thoughts  wandered  away  to  other  things 
which  were  more  important  to  me.  I  sup- 
pose five  minutes  must  have  passed,  when 
I  saw  the  favourite  again  come  out  of  the 
street  door.  She  was  still  veiled  and  she 
pressed  her  hand  to  her  heart,  and  seemed 
scarcely  able  to  walk.  For  a  moment  she 
stood  leaning  against  the  door,  then  she 
drew  herself  up,  put  back  the  veil  from  a 
face  uncannily  white,  and  crossed  the 
road — I  now  stood  up  to  watch  her — and 
looked  up  at  our  neighbour's  windows. 

Was  it  imagination,  or  was  it  fancy, 
but  I  seemed  to  hear  a  mocking,  threaten- 
ing laugh.  Then  the  figure  disappeared 
along  the  road. 

My  bright  spring  mood  had  vanished. 
I  could  not  get  out  of  my  thoughts  the 
pale  and  tortured  face  with  its  impotent, 


132  JULIE'S  DIARY 

almost  absurd,  defiance,  and  all  day  long 
sounded  in  my  ears  the  bitter  laugh  of 
humiliation,  the  laugh  I  heard  .  .  . 
for  I  must  have  heard  it. 

What  a  hard  and  brutal  man  he  must 
be.  Yet,  I  should  not  have  behaved  in 
such  an  undignified  way  in  her  place.  If 
his  infatuation  had  passed,  surely  she  must 
have  noticed  it.  Even  if  he  had  not 
wished  to  speak  out,  she  ought  to  have 
forced  him  to  tell  her  the  truth.  This  I 
know,  that  if  the  day  should  come  when 
I  feel  he  is  growing  tired,  that  moment  I 
shall  leave  him.  I  shall  never  allow  him 
to  feel  our  relationship  a  bore.  I  am  too 
proud  to  live  on  his  mercy,  and  pity.  Not 
even  a  complaint  shall  he  hear.  I  will  dis- 
appear from  his  life  and  nothing  shall 
ever  remind  him  of  me. 

I  am  glad  I  am  not  going  to  see  him 
again  to-night.  I  have  been  so  miserable 
all  day,  I  fear  I  should  have  burst  into 
tears. 

And  I,  who  ought  to  surprise  him  by 


JULIE'S  DIARY  133 

being  such  a  bright  and  happy  girl.  I 
must  try  to  sleep  away  all  the  ugly 
thoughts. 


26th  OF  MARCH. 

THIS  morning,  two  vans  carried  away 
our  neighbour's  furniture,  and  he 
followed  in  a  cab.  Just  before  he  was  go- 
ing to  leave,  he  came  to  the  window  and 
looked  over  to  me.  He  tried  evidently  to 
catch  my  eye,  to  send  me  a  mute  good-bye. 
But  I  pretended  not  to  see  him. 

Now  he  has  gone  and  the  flat  is  empty. 
I  am  very  glad.  I  feel  as  if  a  nightmare 
had  been  lifted  from  my  heart  and  again 
I  breathe  freely. 

And  to-night  I  shall  regain  my  happi- 
ness in  his  arms. 


1st  OF  APRIL. 

MY  dearest  love,  this  letter,   which 
you'll  never  see,  shall  tell  you  all 
the  words  which  die  on  my  lips  when  I 


134  JULIE'S  DIARY 

am  with  you,  die  because  they  seem  to 
childish  and  silly  for  you — you  wise  and 
prudent  man. 

Here,  where  you  are  only  present  in 
my  soul,  here  I  can  speak  to  you,  without 
fearing  to  meet  the  ironical  smile  in  the 
corner  of  your  mouth,  the  smile  I  suppose 
you  are  very  proud  of,  because  it  raises 
you  so  high  above  a  little  ignorant  loving 
girl. 

Anyhow  I  must  tell  you  how  and  why 
I  became  yours. 

In  reality  you  don't  know  me  at  all. 
You  have  every  reason  to  think  badly  of 
me,  for  the  way  in  which  I  came  to  you 
was  as  though  I  was  merely  saying,  'Here 
I  am,  please,  take  me.'  I  became  yours 
because  instinctively  you  understood  me. 
At  all  events  you  understood  so  much  as 
to  realise  that  you  had  met  a  little  being 
whom  it  was  necessary  not  to  frighten, 
whom  you  had  to  treat  as  something  very 
fragile.  The  first  time  I  was  with  you 
I  always  sat  ready  to  fly  away  at  the 


JULIE'S  DIARY  135 

slightest  surprise.  A  hasty  word,  a  too 
violent  caress,  and  I  should  have  flown. 
The  words  you  did  not  speak  were  those 
which  conquered  me.  I  don't  think  you 
know  me  in  the  least.  Now  I  am  yours, 
and  I  will  continue  to  be  yours,  as  long  as 
you  will  have  me.  But  if  you  think  that 
it  is  your  kisses  and  your  caresses  which 
make  me  yours,  then  you  are  highly  mis- 
taken. I  am  no  Miss  Goody-Goody,  no 
angelic  prude.  I  drink  your  kisses  as 
joyfully  as  the  fern  drinks  the  summer 
dew.  I  am  yours  with  desire  and  with 
joy.  I  am  yours  because  I  want  to  be 
yours.  I  don't  want  to  be  like  quicksil- 
ver, which  disappears  in  your  hands. 
Dear  lord  and  master,  all  that  is  mine  I 
give  you  without  sophistry  and  reserva- 
tion. But  what  I  should  like  you  to  un- 
derstand is  this :  I  could  quite  well  do  with- 
out your  caresses,  my  love  would  be  quite 
as  strong  without  them.  It  would  hurt 
me  to  think  that  you  took  me  for  a  little 
Miss  Light-of-love,  a  little  Miss  Kiss-in- 


136  JULIE'S  DIARY 

the-corner,  who  came  to  you  with  warm 
blood  and  reckless  desires. 

I  wonder  if  you  can  understand  this,  I 
wonder  if  you  will  believe  it.  All  I  ask 
is  to  be  with  you,  see  you,  listen  to  what 
you  say ;  yes,  I  would  even  be  happy  with 
less.  You  say,  that  often  you  are  not  in 
the  mood  for  speech,  that  you  need  to  be 
in  peace  with  your  own  thoughts.  Do 
you  know  what  is  my  greatest  wish  ?  That 
on  such  a  day,  when  you  lock  yourself 
in,  alone  with  your  art,  that  you  would 
then  allow  me  to  be  in  your  room,  quiet  in 
a  corner.  I  should  be  as  quiet  as  a  mouse, 
you  should  not  feel  yourself  obliged  to  pay 
me  the  slightest  attention,  you  should  only 
allow  me  to  enjoy  the  happiness  it  would 
be  for  me  to  know  that  of  all  people  on 
earth,  I  was  the  only  one  you  could  suf- 
fer in  your  lonely  moments. 

In  my  fancies  I  often  enjoy  such  an 
hour.  I  try  then  to  guess  the  thoughts 
that  are  moving  within  you.  I  see  you 
then  with  half -closed  eyes,  with  nervously 


JULIE'S  DIARY  137 

twitching  eyelids.  Your  head  resting  on 
your  hand.  But  whenever  I  see  you  sud- 
denly lift  your  head,  and  look  up  with 
large  shining  eyes,  then  I  know  you  have 
got  the  bright  idea  you  were  seeking,  and 
my  heart  beats  joyfully  in  tune  with 
yours.  At  last  I  see  you  triumphantly 
stretch  out  your  arms  with  a  smile  of  vic- 
tory on  your  face,  you  re-light  the  ciga- 
rette which  you  have  allowed  to  go  out 
while  you  were  thinking,  and  suddenly  re- 
membering that  your  little  girl  is  in  your 
room,  you  come  over  to  her,  take  her  hand 
in  yours,  and  say  how  glad  you  are  that 
she  is  with  you,  and  how  awfully  good 
and  dear  she  has  been,  not  disturbing  you 
in  the  least. 

Do  you  never,  never  think  that  it  is  this 
way  that  I  love  you,  or  do  you  not  care  to 
know?  Are  you  afraid  that  I  shall  love 
you  too  much? 

Do  you  never  realise  how  hard  it  is  for 
me  to  part  from  you  the  evenings  I  have 
been  with  you?  You  must  not  think  me  a 


138  JULIE'S  DIARY 

designing  little  person,  for  whom  it  is 
quite  a  usual  thing  to  play  tricks  right 
under  her  parents'  noses,  and  for  whom  it 
is  a  special  pleasure  after  she  has  been  out 
enjoying  her  secret  meetings  to  invent  a 
new  story  with  which  to  deceive  her 
mother. 

No,  dearest,  you  must  not  think  of  me 
like  that.  Certainly  there  is  nothing  in 
the  world  I  would  not  do  to  be  able  to 
come  to  you.  I  don't  complain.  I  don't 
want  you  to  think  I  consider  my  happi- 
ness too  dearly  bought.  On  the  other 
hand  I  should  not  like  you  to  think  that  I 
take  it  all  too  lightly. 

Then  there  are  the  days  between  our 
meetings.  Of  course  you  are  unable  to 
understand  that  three  or  four  days  can  be 
an  eternity.  You  have  so  many  things 
to  interest  you.  Your  work,  your  pleas- 
ures, your  life  is  in  a  world  where  every 
hour  of  the  day  brings  new  nourishment, 
new  material.  But  when  I  am  away 
from  you  existence  closes  round  me  like 


JULIE'S  DIARY  139 

prison  walls,  whose  only  warmth  is  my 
longing  for  you,  whose  only  colouring  is 
my  memory  of  your  brightness.  But 
how  should  you  be  able  to  understand  any- 
thing of  all  this.  You,  who  only  see  a 
happy  face  come  and  go,  who  know  noth- 
ing of  the  life  which  belongs  to  the  happy 
face  from  the  moment  it  nods  a  smiling 
farewell  until  it  next  laughs  a  joyful 
greeting  to  you. 

But  should  your  thoughts  ever,  when  I 
am  away  from  you,  try  to  follow  me,  and 
had  they  the  power  to  see  through  doors 
and  walls,  they  would  see  the  happy  face 
changed  into  a  picture  of  doleful  misery. 
I  don't  know  how  it  is,  it  may  be  wrong 
and  ungrateful  of  me,  but  the  first  day's 
radiant  happiness,  which  carried  me  over 
all  worries  and  shed  a  golden  light  on 
everything  round  me,  has  vanished,  giv- 
ing place  to  moodiness  and  fear,  which 
only  now  and  again  changes  into  nervous 
merriment  and  the  desire  for  excitement 
and  noise  around  me.  Never  before  has 


140  JULIE'S  DIARY 

my  own  home  seemed  so  poor,  and  cold, 
and  grey,  as  when  I  return  from  playing 
the  mistress  of  your  house.  As  we  sit  eat- 
ing our  dinner  in  mournful  dulness,  there 
rises  within  me  a  sudden  longing,  a  feel- 
ing of  loneliness,  and  I  have  to  bite  my 
lips  together  to  keep  myself  from  burst- 
ing into  tears. 

But  in  the  twilight,  it  is  generally  worst, 
when  I  sit  huddled  up  in  my  corner  of  the 
window.  Then  the  doubts  come  stealing 
out,  pushing  their  clammy,  rat-like  snouts 
into  my  mind,  Where  is  he  now?  Who 
is  with  him?  Is  he  at  a  party  with  charm- 
ing and  fascinating  women?  Is  he  look- 
ing at  them  with  love  in  his  eyes,  as  when 
he  bends  over  me?  Is  his  voice  gentle  and 
bewitching,  as  when  he  whispers  to  me? 
What  am  I  to  him  now?  Does  he  give 
me  a  thought,  or  does  he  in  other  arms  for- 
get his  Julie? 

I  know,  dear  one,  I  have  no  right  to 
ask  for  accounts;  you  have  never  prom- 
ised me  faithfulness,  and  I  love  you  too 


JULIE'S  DIARY  141 

much  ever  to  ask  it.  We  made  no  con- 
tract and  no  conditions  when  I  gave  my- 
self to  you,  and  of  course  I  ought  to  have 
known  that  I  was  not  the  only  one. 

I  don't  ask  for  more  now.  Only  I  wish 
you  to  understand  that  I  need  you  terri- 
bly, and  that  you  must  be  good  to  me.  I 
have  to  live  for  days  on  the  few  hours' 
happiness  with  you.  And  should  it  hap- 
pen, as  it  did  last  time,  that  you  say  some- 
thing cold  or  teasing,  the  words  freeze  into 
my  heart,  and  everything  seems  hopeless 
until  I  see  you  again. 

If  I  should  send  you  this  letter  you 
would  be  unable  to  hide  your  ironical 
smile.  You  would  say  I  was  a  fool,  and 
for  the  moment  I  should  agree  with  you 
— because  I  always  agree  with  you  for  the 
moment — but  afterwards  your  smile 
would  make  me  desperately  miserable. 

You  only  want  me  as  a  happy  face,  a 
diversion  now  and  again.  While  I  am 
so  recklessly  yours  I  can  do  nothing — 
know  nothing — be  nothing,  without  you. 


142  JULIE'S  DIARY 

That  is  the  reason  this  letter  stays  in  my 
diary.  JULIE. 


3rd  OF  APRIL. 

THAT  which  had  to  come  has  come. 
Erik  and  I  have  said  good-bye  to 
each  other. 

I  am  glad  it  is  over,  and  that  it  hap- 
pened so  quietly  and  nicely.  I  feel  it  a  re- 
lief ;  that  I  no  longer  have  to  dread  Erik's 
astonished,  inquiring,  reproachful  glances. 

He  had  noticed  that  I  was  changing  to- 
wards him.  He  felt  that  I  was  drifting 
further  and  further  away  from  him, — 
without  knowing  why.  I  am  glad  that  it  is 
over.  It  was  so  hideous,  it  hurt  me.  It 
infuriated  me  to  unjust  hatred,  made  me 
act  in  a  low  and  unworthy  way. 

When  I  was  a  half -grown  girl  I  had  a 
dog.  I  was  capricious,  and  did  not  al- 
ways treat  it  well,  yet  it  loved  me.  One 
day  it  happened  that  when,  in  the  usual 
way,  it  rubbed  itself  aif  ectionately  against 


JULIE'S  DIARY  143 

me,  I  sent  it  roughly  away.  It  slunk  away 
to  the  corner  by  the  fireplace,  where  it  lay 
down  with  its  head  between  its  front  paws. 
But  every  moment  it  looked  at  me,  and 
suddenly  it  stood  again  in  front  of  me, 
staring  at  me  with  eyes  that  seemed  to  say: 
Why  do  you  treat  me  so  harshly? 

I  remember  there  were  days  when  these 
mute,  accusing  eyes  aroused  in  me  a  per- 
fect fury.  I  could  have  killed  the  dog. 
The  same  feeling  I  have  had  during  the 
last  few  weeks  for  Erik.  With  what 
right  did  his  eyes  call  me  to  account? 
What  right  had  they  to  interfere  with  my 
mode  of  life  like  an  accusing  conscience? 

But  the  worst  and  most  painful  thing 
was,  that  every  time  of  late  we  have  met, 
Erik  and  I  have  been  forced  by  curious 
fatality  to  speak  of  him.  No  matter  what 
subject  we  started  we  always  ended  by 
discussing  him.  Every  time  Erik  came  I 
said  to  myself:  to-day  his  name  shall  not 
be  mentioned.  Then  we  started  talking 
heavily  and  laboriously,  or  with  forced 


144  JULIE'S  DIARY 

gaiety ;  we  talked  about  wind  and  weather, 
about  friends  and  acquaintances — his 
name  sounded  in  my  ears,  his  name  stood 
in  Erik's  eyes,  was  on  his  lips.  It  was 
hopeless  to  flutter  any  longer;  suddenly 
the  name  was  mentioned,  the  flame  had 
caught  us.  And  once  again  the  misera- 
ble comedy  was  played.  Erik,  who  un- 
derstood nothing,  and  acted  like  a  blind 
man,  defended  his  friend,  while  I  attacked 
him.  No,  it  was  quite  unbearable.  For- 
tunately it  is  all  over  now. 

It  happened  this  morning.  Erik  knew 
that  to-day  mother  would  go  to  church 
alone.  I  heard  the  bell  ring.  It  was  he. 

He  was  pale,  yet  very  hot,  and  sat  wip- 
ing the  perspiration  from  his  face.  We 
had  exchanged  some  commonplaces,  when 
he  said  (I  sat  by  the  window,  he  near  the 
round  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room), 
'Do  oblige  me,  Julie,  by  moving  over  here. 
I  have  something  to  talk  to  you  about/ 

'And  can't  you  do  that  from  a  dis- 
tance?' 


JULIE'S  DIARY  145 

'No,  be  a  dear,  and  do  as  I  ask  you.'  I 
sat  down  near  him,  and  there  was  a  pause. 
I  believe  we  were  both  feeling  equally  ill 
at  ease. 

He  took  my  hand,  it  was  as  cold  as  ice, 
while  his  was  moist  and  trembling.  He 
looked  at  me  seriously  and  tenderly,  and 
said  in  a  quiet  voice,  'I  have  come,  Julie, 
to  ask  you  if  you  will  be  my  wife?' 

The  question  came  so  suddenly,  and  was 
so  unexpected,  that  I  could  not  imme- 
diately find  an  answer. 

He  continued:  'You  see,  I  cannot 
stand  this  any  longer.  I  have  waited 
and  waited  because  I  did  not  dare  to  ask. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  there  was  hope  as 
long  as  I  had  no  answer.  But  now  I  must 
have  certainty.  Whatever  the  answer  is, 
it  will  be  better  for  me  than  the  suspense 
and  anxiety  of  the  past  weeks.  You  must 
answer  me  quite  frankly;  that,  Julie,  is 
the  only  thing  I  demand  of  you.  Will 
you  be  my  wife?' 

I  had  regained  my  composure,  and  I 


146  JULIE'S  DIARY 

answered  as  kindly  as  I  could,  but  quite 
firmly.  'Did  you  really  need  to  ask,  Erik. 
I  hardly  think  so.  No,  Erik,  I  cannot  be 
your  wife.' 

He  let  my  hand  go,  and  sat  some  mo- 
ments in  deep  thought  before  saying,  'But 
last  winter,  Julie,  when  I  wrote  that  I  was 
coming  back  ?' 

'Yes,  Erik,  then  it  was  different.' 

He  stood  up.  'Well,  then  it  is  as  I 
thought.  I  won't  ask.  You  owe  me  no 
explanations.  Perhaps  I  even  prefer  to 
know  nothing.  And  now,  good-bye,  lit- 
tle foster-sister.  I  hope  you  will  be  very 
happy.' 

He  bent  over  me  and  I  felt  his  lips  on 
my  forehead,  and  while  I  sat  there  with- 
out moving,  I  heard  the  door  bang  after 
him. 

Later,  of  course,  I  wept  many  bitter 
tears.  Yet  I  felt  relieved.  It  seemed  to 
me  as  if  a  black  cloud  had  rolled  away 
from  my  sky,  as  if  a  heavy  burden  had 
fallen  from  my  mind. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  147 

Erik  has  left.  I  shall  no  longer  meet 
his  sad  eyes  like  an  evil  conscience.  And 
I  can  again  think  of  him  with  kindness 
and  love.  I  have  never  seen  him  so  hand- 
some and  manly  as  when  he  stood  up  to 
go,  after  having  had  his  answer.  No 
tears,  no  reproaches,  no  anger  in  his  eyes, 
only  a  gentle,  sad,  understanding  smile. 

How  far  prouder  and  better  men  are 
than  we  women-folk. 


4th  OF  APEIL. 

T I  THERE  is  a  photograph  standing 
JL  amongst  many  others  on  his  writ- 
ing-table. I  hate  that  photo.  It  repre- 
sents a  young  woman  with  large  dark 
eyes,  which  look  as  if  they  reflected  a 
dream  of  love  and  kisses.  I  dare  say  they 
are  very  beautiful,  but  they  make  a  hor- 
rid impression  on  me. 

Every  time  I  have  been  to  see  him,  I 
have  longed  to  ask  him  who  she  is.  Yet 
I  have  never  done  it. 


148  JULIE'S  DIARY 

But  to-night  I  suddenly  found  out. 
He  had  left  the  room,  and  I  stood  in  front 
of  his  desk,  looking  at  the  photo.  I  did 
not  know  that  he  had  come  back,  when  I 
suddenly  heard  his  voice  behind  saying: 
'Don't  you  think  she  is  very  beautiful?' 

'I  suppose  she  is.' 

'Do  you  not  know  her  ?  She  is  the  well- 
known  Mrs.  Paula  Hansen.' 

Then  I  was  entertained  with  a  long  rig- 
marole about  Mrs.  Paula.  It  seemed  as 
though  he  must  go  on  speaking  about  her. 
He  was  an  intimate  friend  of  hers  and  of 
her  husband's,  and  until  lately  he  had  been 
a  constant  visitor  at  her  house.  She  was 
so  dear  and  charming,  so  clever  and  amus- 
ing— I  have  never  heard  him  admire  any- 
body so  much,  and  every  moment  he  as- 
sured me  that  he  was  'awfully  fond  of 
her.' 

Suddenly  in  the  midst  of  his  rhapsodies 
he  asked  smilingly,  'Surely  you  are  not 
jealous  of  Mrs.  Hansen?' 

'Why  should  you  think  that?' 


JULIE'S  DIARY  149 

'Oh,  because  I  thought  you  suddenly 
became  so  quiet.' 

Jealous,  no  I  am  not  jealous — I  will  not 
be.  But  if  he  thinks  it  amuses  me  to  hear 
him  talk  a  whole  evening  about  Mrs.  P. 
H.,  he  is  very  much  mistaken. 

In  my  opinion,  she  does  not  look  a 
lady,  and  that  expression  in  her  eyes  gives 
her  something,  well,  what  shall  I  call  it, 
some  air  of  the  demi-monde. 


7th  OF  APRIL. 

TO-DAY  I  got  into  a  terrible  fix. 
The  large  veil  which  I  generally 
carefully  hide  in  my  room,  I  left  last 
night  in  the  pocket  of  my  cloak,  which 
hangs  in  the  hall. 

When  I  came  into  the  dining-room  this 
morning,  I  saw  it  lying  on  a  chair.  Mother 
pointed  to  it  and  said:  'What  have  you 
used  that  for?  Where  did  you  find  it?' 

I  felt  I  grew  scarlet,  but  answered  in  a 
careless  voice :  'I  found  it  one  day  in  the 


150  JULIE'S  DIARY 

attic,  and  when  it  rained  so  badly  last 
night,  I  ...  but,'  I  continued,  as  if  with 
a  sudden  intuition,  before  mother  had  time 
to  answer,  'if  it  is  a  sacred  thing,  which  I 
ought  not  to  have  touched,  I  am  very 
sorry.' 

Mother  looked  quickly  at  me,  and  as  she 
left  the  room  said,  'No,  certainly  not,  you 
are  quite  welcome  to  use  it.' 

Though  ever  since,  I  fancy,  she  has  been 
a  little  worried. 


8th  OF  APRIL. 

IT  must  be  either  the  spring  which 
makes  the  men  silly,  or  that  happi- 
ness makes  me  different  from  what  I  have 
ever  been  before.  To-day  there  were  no 
less  than  eleven — eleven  men  that  sent  me 
glances.  Yesterday  there  were  five, 
which  considering  it  was  raining  did  not 
seem  a  bad  number.  I  have  never  before 
had  men  looking  at  me  like  that  in  the 
street.  It  is  something  quite  new  to  me, 


JULIE'S  DIARY  151 

but  probably  it  is  part  of  all  the  other 
strange  things  that  have  happened.  I 
admit  frankly  that  it  pleases  me.  Every 
man  who  looks  admiringly  at  me,  gives 
me  new  proof  that  he  (the  great  and  only 
one)  is  perhaps  not  lying  to  me  when  he 
says  he  thinks  me  lovely. 

Evidently  it  amuses  him  too  to  hear  of 
the  little  successes  I  have  enjoyed.  But 
when  last  time  I  told  him  that  such  a  nice 
man  had  looked  at  me  four  days  running, 
he  said  in  an  irritable  voice,  'I  do  not  like 
that;  promise  me  never  to  look  again  in 
his  direction.' 

I  wonder  if  he  really  meant  it  seri- 
ously. Is  it  possible  that  he  is  just  a  little 
jealous?  How  perfectly  wonderful,  how 
maddeningly  delightful. 


9th  OF  APRIL. 

YES,  I  am  happy,  so  happy  that  I 
become    dissatisfied.     But   when    I 
know  that  even  the  sun  has  spots,  there 


152  JULIE'S  DIARY 

is  not  much  reason  to  grumble  when  now 
and  again  a  cloud  passes  over  my  sky.  I 
can  think  sensibly  like  that,  when  it  is  all 
over  and  the  sun  is  once  more  shining. 
But  while  the  cloud  is  there,  I  am  less 
heroic. 

That  which  causes  me  most  of  my  sad 
moments  is  his  snail-like  manner  of  dis- 
appearing into  himself.  It  seems  as  though 
he  is  afraid  of  coming  out  too  much,  of 
mentally  getting  too  close  to  me. 

Suddenly  as  we  sit  happily  and  cosily 
together  he  disappears,  and  there  is  only 
left  a  reserved  and  guarded  cavalier. 

In  these  moments  it  seems  like  a  hun- 
dred miles  lay  between  us.  Our  hands, 
which  have  clasped  each  other's  warmly 
and  firmly,  slip  limply  down,  and  I  don't 
recognise  his  face  and  voice  any  longer. 
I  dream  I  am  with  my  lover,  I  wake  up 
to  find  by  my  side  a  stranger  who  talks 
to  me  with  forced  politeness. 

If  I  dared  only  ask  him  why  he  is  like 
that.  Does  he  fear  that  he  is  intriguing 


JULIE'S  DIARY  153 

against  him.  If  it  was  not  that  I  don't 
like  even  to  hint  at  such  a  thing,  I  should 
say  to  him,  'You  need  not  be  afraid,  I 
don't  aspire  to  be  your  wife.' 

On  that  point  he  can  rest  assured.  I 
have  thought  it  all  over,  and  I  have  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  even  if  he  should 
propose  it,  I  would  refuse  to  marry  him. 
It  would  be  the  greatest  pity  for  us  both. 
Freedom  is  for  him  an  absolutely  neces- 
sary condition  of  life,  and  I  would  suffer 
too  much  in  feeling  myself  a  drag  on  his 
foot.  I  dare  not  think  of  the  time  when 
it  will  all  be  over.  When  I  think  that 
every  happy  day  that  is  given  me  is  a  step 
nearer  that  great,  dark  Nirvana  then  my 
soul  shudders  with  nameless  terror.  And 
yet  he  is  right.  Our  love  is  not  a  vegeta- 
ble to  be  used  for  household  needs.  Our 
love  is  a  plant  with  lovely  flowers  and 
sweet  scent.  It  dies  quickly  because  its 
life  has  been  too  vivid. 

Our  love.  Has  he  ever  used  the  word? 
No,  never,  just  as  he  has  never  said  I  love 


154  JULIE'S  DIARY 

you.  Of  course  I  know  that  words  are 
not  everything.  He  can  love  me  very 
dearly  even  though  he  does  not  say  so, 
his  protestations  would  be  no  proof,  if 
they  were  all  I  had. 

He  calls  me  child.  But  when  he  takes 
my  head  in  his  hands,  looks  deep  into  my 
eyes  and  says,  'You  darling  child!'  why 
will  he  not  understand  that  the  child  is 
longing  to  hear  the  blessed  words  which 
in  dreams  and  poems  are  promised  to 
every  loving  child.  I  wonder  is  it  caution 
which  prevents  you,  my  wise  friend,  from 
saying  the  words  I — in  joyful  happiness 
— give  you,  whenever  you  wish.  I  won- 
der! for  how  can  such  caution  be  allied 
to  what  you  told  me  last  night.  I  stood 
in  front  of  the  mirror  and  saw  behind  me 
your  glance,  which  rested  on  me  with  the 
utmost  uncautious  tenderness;  and  while 
you  laid  your  arm  round  me,  you  said  the 
curiously  mysterious  words,  'And  there 
was  a  foam  of  white  doves  around  her.' 


JULIE'S  DIARY  155 

When  I  looked  questioningly  at  you,  you 
continued  :— 

'It  is  a  poem  which  has  sung  within  me 
from  my  childhood,  and  they  are  the 
words — there  are  no  others — to  a  scene  I 
once  saw.  It  was  a  summer  morning  in 
the  country,  in  a  big  yard  bathed  in  sun- 
shine stood  a  young  girl — never  before 
had  I  seen  anything  so  lovely — in  a  blue 
dress  with  a  little  basket  in  her  hands. 
She  took  a  handful  of  peas  out  of  the 
basket,  and  at  the  same  moment  the  air 
around  her  was  like  white  foam.  From 
all  the  buildings  round  the  yard  the  doves 
flew  towards  her.  They  perched  on  her 
head,  her  shoulders,  arms  and  hips,  she 
seemed  as  though  clothed  in  them.  For 
my  childish  fancy  it  looked  like  a  fairy- 
land picture.  To  me  she  was  Princess 
Snowwhite  herself.  But  since  then  the 
picture  has  shaped  itself  into  a  revelation 
of  pure,  frank,  living  virginity,  and  this 
revelation  I  hold  to-day  in  my  arms.' 


156  JULIE'S  DIARY 

I  wonder  if  after  telling  me  this  you 
would  have  committed  a  great  indiscre- 
tion by  adding,  'I  love  you.'  But  if  you 
are  afraid  of  spoiling  the  child,  and  mak- 
ing her  too  conceited,  why  did  you  let  your 
white  doves  foam  about  her? 


11th  OF  APRIL. 

I  AM  glad  I  was  allowed  to  be  with 
him  for  a  short  time  to-night.  To- 
morrow he  is  going  to  play  a  new  part 
which  has  cost  him  much  thought  and 
study.  So  as  not  to  interrupt  him,  I 
only  stayed  with  him  for  an  hour.  He 
came  straight  from  the  dress  rehearsal, 
and  was  in  excellent  spirits.  The  only 
one  of  his  colleagues  in  whom  he  has  con- 
fidence, and  whose  criticism  he  values,  had 
congratulated  him  on  his  acting. 

It  is  very  seldom  that  he  speaks  of  him- 
self as  an  actor.  But  to-night  I  could 
feel  he  wished  to  open  his  heart  to  some 
one,  and  I  believe  he  was  glad  I  was  with 


JULIE'S  DIARY  157 

him.  I  sat  quietly  and  enjoyed  him,  en- 
joyed seeing  this  otherwise  so  self -con- 
trolled creature  in  such  a  whirl  of  excite- 
ment. Suddenly  he  looked  at  me  and 
broke  off  in  the  middle  of  some  passionate 
words,  laughed  and  said,  'You  looked 
quite  alarmed,  I  suppose  you  think  I  have 
gone  mad.'  Shortly  after  he  added,  'You 
see,  I'll  confess  what  I  suppose  you  have 
already  guessed,  I  am  not  at  all  such  a 
cold-blooded  fellow  as  I  pretend  to  be. 
It  is,'  and  he  smiled,  'altogether  a  pose. 
In  reality  I  am  one  of  the  most  fanatical 
creatures  alive,  but  I  have  realised  that  in 
every  way  one  produces  greater  effect  by 
allowing  the  volcano  to  be  more  suspected 
than  seen,  its  hidden  lava  stream  should 
heat  the  earth,  but  only  occasionally  sur- 
prise by  a  little  eruption.'  Again  he  grew 
serious.  'Perhaps,  after  all,  I  am  not  so 
calculating.  But  what  does  that  matter. 
It  is  the  lava  stream  which  makes  me  an 
artist.  It  is  that  which  ought  to  make  me 
a  better  actor  than  the  others  who  either 


158  JULIE'S  DIARY 

rattle  along  to  the  full  jingle  of  bells,  or 
trundle  along  in  respectable  mediocrity, 
both  being  equally  uninteresting,  because 
both  are  lacking  in  the  subtle,  the  mysteri- 
ous and  fascinating  element  which  we  call 
poetry.' 

'You  are  not  a  wee  bit  conceited?'  I 
asked — not  so  maliciously  that  he  could 
not  easily  understand  that  in  me  at  all 
events  he  had  an  admiring  audience. 

'Yes,'  he  answered,  and  knelt  before 
me,  'I  am  conceited,  even  very  conceited. 
But  do  you  know  why?  Because  I  have 
got  you,  it  is  you  who  have  taught  me  to 
act  my  part  well.' 

'Then  it  is  really  I  who  ought  to  be  con- 
ceited.' 

'I  am  hoping  that  I  shall  make  you  feel 
so  to-morrow  night,  or  at  any  rate  a  little 
bit  pleased.' 

Of  course  I  am  going  to  the  theatre  to- 
morrow. Unfortunately  I  am  going  with 
Emmy,  whose  chatter  is  sure  to  ruin  half 
my  pleasure.  But  there  is  no  other  way. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  159 

I  did  not  dare  to  accept  a  ticket  from  him, 
so  I  got  Emmy  to  invite  me  as  a  birthday 
present  in  advance. 


12th  OF  APRIL. 

TO-NIGHT  so  many  different  im- 
pressions passed  through  my  mind, 
that  I  find  it  difficult  to  describe  them. 

I  must  start  with  the  beginning.  On 
the  way  to  the  theatre  Emmy  entertained 
me  with  stories  about  him  and  Mrs.  Paula 
Hansen.  Had  I  not  heard  that  they  are 
in  love  with  each  other?  Everybody 
(Emmy  always  speaks  for  everybody) 
talks  about  it. 

I  had  made  up  my  mind  not  to  be  in- 
fluenced by  Emmy's  gossip.  Just  as 
Catholics,  to  keep  evil  thoughts  away,  say 
their  rosaries,  I  continued  to  think  of  his 
face  when  he  looks  lovingly  at  me,  and 
repeated  to  myself  his  dearest  words.  Yet 
I  did  not  altogether  escape  the  tempter. 
While  Emmy  dropped  her  poisonous 


160  JULIE'S  DIARY 

words  into  my  ears,  doubt  and  despair 
triumphantly  raised  their  heads  in  my 
soul:  What  do  you  really  know  about 
him?  You  fool,  who  trust  so  implicitly 
in  one  you  do  not  know?  His  face  seemed 
to  change  in  my  thoughts,  and  grew  stiff 
and  cold.  His  words  sounded  mockingly. 
I  heard  him  say  with  a  malicious  laugh, 
'She  is  beautiful,  isn't  she?' 

When  we  reached  the  theatre,  I  should 
have  liked  to  have  run  away.  To  have 
run  away  from  it  all,  from  life  which  is 
so  difficult  to  disentangle,  from  the  people 
who  make  life  still  harder  for  each  other. 

I  found  myself  sitting  in  the  theatre 
in  the  midst  of  the  buzzing  crowd.  I 
heard  laughter  and  light  chatter  from 
people  who  had  come  there  to  kill  a  few 
hours,  and  to  me  it  seemed  revolting  that 
he  should  give  his  art  to  this  unintelligent, 
heartless  mob. 

Then  I  heard  suddenly  Emmy  whisper, 
'Here  she  is!'  I  followed  the  direction 
of  her  glance,  and  saw  on  the  front  row 


JULIE'S  DIARY  161 

of  the  dress  circle  a  lady  whom  I  recog- 
nized from  the  photograph  as  Mrs.  Paula 
Hansen. 

Yes,  she  is  beautiful.  Not  with  regu- 
lar beauty,  but  she  has  wonderful  eyes, 
and  there  is  a  curious  charm  about  her  re- 
fined and  graceful  personality. 

I  don't  know  why,  but  I  felt  at  once 
great  sympathy  for  her.  As  she  sat  lean- 
ing back  in  her  seat  without  noticing  the 
people  round  her,  there  was  an  expression 
of  thoughtful  sadness  about  her  which 
touched  me. 

I  could  not  take  my  eyes  off  her.  I 
felt  a  curious  longing  within  me — a  long- 
ing to  know  her,  to  go  up  and  kiss  her,  and 
say:  'Can't  we  be  friends;  we  two?' 

Then  this  feeling  was  dispelled  by 
Emmy  whispering:  'Heaven  knows  how 
many  women  friends  he  has  in  the  theatre 
to-night  .  .  .'  The  music  started  and 
everybody  was  silent.  Now,  in  a  moment, 
it  would  begin;  scarcely  had  the  thought 
crossed  my  mind  before  a  terror  gripped 


162  JULIE'S  DIARY 

my  heart,  and  I  felt  as  if  I  should  faint. 
With  moist  hands  I  squeezed  my  hand- 
kerchief, and  I  answered  Emmy's  ques- 
tions quite  senselessly. 

The  curtain  had  risen.  I  saw  figures 
moving  about  behind  the  footlights.  I 
heard  talking,  and  round  me  people 
laughing  and  clapping.  I  believe  I 
laughed  myself,  but  I  don't  know  why.  I 
sat  like  one  paralysed. 

Then  suddenly  it  was  as  if  some  one 
called  me.  A  veil  fell  from  my  eyes,  a 
warm  stream  ran  through  my  veins.  He 
stood  there  on  the  stage  and  spoke.  Was 
it  hallucination?  Did  I  sit  in  his  room, 
and  was  it  to  me  he  spoke?  I  had  to 
pinch  my  arm  to  be  quite  awake  and  un- 
derstand that  I  was  really  in  the  theatre, 
and  saw  my  own  love-story  being  enacted ; 
heard  all  the  melodies  which  had  been 
softly  murmured  to  me,  entoned  in  rich 
beauty  from  the  stage. 

An  involuntary  shame  and  fear  seized 
me.  The  blood  shot  up  in  my  cheeks.  I 


JULIE'S  DIARY  163 

glanced  at  Emmy  and  at  the  other  spec- 
tators to  see  if  they  had  discovered  any- 
thing. 

Then  I  laughed  off  my  silly  fear,  and 
sank  back  into  happy  enjoyment.  I  was 
so  glad  and  proud  that  the  tears  rolled 
down  my  cheeks;  I  forgot  everybody  and 
everything  around  me  until  the  curtain 
fell.  The  lights  were  turned  up.  I  heard 
the  applause,  and  Emmy,  who  laughingly 
said:  'But  what  in  the  world  are  you 
howling  for?  I  didn't  see  anything  sad  in 
it';  and  she  added,  'but  I  must  say  he 
played  wonderfully,'  which  made  Emmy 
go  up  in  my  respect. 

In  the  entr'acte  I  looked  up  to  Mrs. 
Paula's  seat.  She  sat  now  glancing  curi- 
ously about  her,  as  if  there  was  somebody 
she  was  specially  looking  for.  Suddenly 
our  eyes  met,  and  I  seemed  to  see  a  dark 
flash  in  hers.  Later  on  during  the  even- 
ing I  noticed  several  times  that  her  opera- 
glasses  were  on  me.  I  wonder  does  she 
know  me?  Does  she  suspect  anything? — 


164  JULIE'S  DIARY     . 

could  he  have — oh  no,  that  is  impossible. 
Yet  her  glances  made  me  anxious,  and 
during  the  last  part  of  the  performance 
I  had  a  curious  feeling  of  being  watched. 

Then  the  play  was  over  and  we  stood  in 
the  hall  getting  our  cloaks ;  I  asked  Emmy 
not  to  hurry  too  much,  I  wanted  to  wait 
as  long  as  possible  to  catch  some  of  the 
words  of  praise  which  people  said  about 
him.  Everybody  seemed  astonished  at  his 
excellent  acting,  and  I  heard  somebody 
say :  'Now  his  fortune  is  made,  he  has  at 
last  shown  that  he  has  great  talent.* 

Now.  Why  now?  Only  I  knew  the 
reason,  and  if  you,  my  dearest  one,  had 
seen  how  high  I  held  my  head  you  would 
have  had  occasion  to  pinch  my  ear,  and  call 
me  a  conceited  little  goose. 

As  we  were  leaving  the  theatre  we  ran 
against  Erik.  He  was  radiant  about  his 
friend's  success,  and  said:  'Now,  I  hope 
you  admit  that  there  is  something  in  him 
after  all.'  He  told  me  also  that  he  was 
going  away  again  very  soon.  At  present 


JULIE'S  DIARY  165 

he  had  given  up  all  idea  of  starting  for 
himself.  Poor  Erik. 

Emmy  wanted  me  to  come  with  her  and 
have  a  cup  of  tea,  but  I  dreaded  too  much 
her  expansive  criticism  of  the  play  and  the 
acting,  so  I  left  her  and  took  the  tram  for 
home.  When  I  had  gone  a  little  way,  I 
got  out  again.  I  was  suddenly  seized  by 
an  irresistible  desire  to  see  him  again  to- 
night, just  to  see  him  and  tell  him  that  I 
loved  him  more  than  ever.  Of  course  it 
was  absurd  to  think  I  should  find  him  at 
home.  I  went  to  his  door,  it  was  closed. 
There  were  no  lights  in  his  flat.  For  half 
an  hour  I  walked  about  outside  his  house, 
then  I  was  bound  to  go  home. 

But  on  my  return  home,  all  my  conceit 
disappeared.  I  sat  in  the  tram  and  had 
great  difficulty  to  prevent  myself  from 
bursting  into  tears,  while  thinking  that  he 
was  perhaps  with  her  on  this  evening, 
which  ought  to  have  been  totally  and 
wholly  mine. 

I  wonder,  did  he  think  of  me ;  was  it  one 


166  JULIE'S  DIARY 

of  my  flowers  he  wore  in  his  button-hole  as 
a  special  greeting  to  me. 

I  will  believe  it.  I  will  not  think  of  all 
Emmy  told  me. 

He  cannot  possibly  have  been  with  her 
to-night.  Even  if  it  is  not  as  Emmy  says, 
it  seems  to  me,  that  to  be  with  her  to-night, 
would  surely  be  sinning  against  me. 


13th  OF  APRIL. 

TO-DAY  I  bought  all  the  papers. 
They  are  full  of  praise.  In  one  of 
them  they  even  speak  of  'quite  astonishing 
improvement.'  Only  one  of  the  whole  lot 
is  not  complimentary.  They  say  'that  he 
was  dull  and  impudent  as  usual,'  and  this 
time  also  drowned  in  affectation.  I  won- 
der what  idiot  writes  for  this  paper.  I 
should  love  to  see  him  hacked  into  pieces 
and  dished  up  as  a  'terrible  accident'  in  his 
own  paper.  But  what  does  it  matter 
what  one  absurd  person  writes  when 
everybody  else  is  enthusiastic.  The  play 


JULIE'S  DIARY  167 

was  done  again  last  night,  alas!  I  could 
not  be  in  the  theatre,  but  I  was  outside 
when  the  box-office  opened — there  was  a 
big  queue,  and  again  after  the  perform- 
ance— I  stood  in  the  hall,  wearing  my  veil 
of  course,  and  let  people  crush  past  me. 
I  heard  his  name  mentioned  a  hundred 
times,  and  I  went  home,  saying  it  over  to 
myself  a  thousand  times  before  I  fell 
asleep. 

•  •  •  •  •  • 

What  have  all  the  others  been  to  him? 
Why  have  none  of  them  been  able  to 
inspire  him?  If  he  has  cared  as  much  for 
any  of  them  as  he  cares  for  me,  why  was 
it  left  for  me  to  light  the  torch  of  his  suc- 
cess? 

I  ask  myself  all  these  questions,  but  I 
dare  not  say  aloud  the  answer,  which 
sings  in  my  soul  like  a  hymn  of  victory. 

I  dare  not  for  fear  of  deceiving  myself, 
and  yet,  how  is  it  possible  there  can  be  any 
other  answer  than  the  one  which  is  ju- 
bilant within  me.  It  is  me  he  loves ;  I  am 


168  JULIE'S  DIARY 

the  only  one  he  has  loved.  The  only  one ! 
I  fancy  that  men  take  love  in  a  differ- 
ent way  from  we  women.  They  can  have 
scores  of  love-stories,  but  they  mean  very 
little ;  each  one  is  like  a  passing  wind  which 
only  for  a  moment  ripples  the  surface  of 
their  being.  But  then  suddenly  comes  the 
great  love,  which  raises  a  storm  in  their 
souls — a  storm  which  revolutionises  and 
brings  all  that  is  deepest  and  best  to  the 
surface.  Then  they  have  strength  and 
enthusiasm  to  achieve  their  life's  great 
victory. 


GOOD   FRIDAY. 

AT  last  I  have  seen  him  again. 
I  meant  to  have  said  something 
really  nice  to  him,  something  sincere  and 
tender,  to  show  my  great  joy  in  his  suc- 
cess. But  all  I  could  get  out  was  a  dry, 
'I  congratulate  you;  you  have  had  a  great 
success.'  He  answered:  'Yes,  I  believe 
I  was  a  success ;  now  let  me  hear  the  only 


JULIE'S  DIARY  169 

criticism  that  matters,  the  only  one  that  is 
of  value  to  me.  What  did  you  think? 
Was  it  good?  Was  it  true?  Did  it 
awake  memories  in  you?  Did  it  touch  you 
a  little  bit? 

I  put  my  arms  round  his  neck,  looked 
all  my  joy  into  his  eyes,  and  whispered: 
'Thank  you.'  But  afterwards  I  told  him 
the  same  thing  in  many  more  words. 


On  his  writing-table  stood  a  bouquet  of 
yellow  roses.  The  moment  I  saw  them  I 
thought  — those  are  from  her. 

I  became  a  little  depressed,  and  he  no- 
ticed it.  'What  is  the  matter?'  he  asked. 

'Nothing.' 

But  shortly  after  I  could  not  help  say- 
ing :  *  You  have  had  flowers  sent  you.  I 
suppose  they  are  from — ' 

He  interrupted  me.  'Come,  come, 
Julie,  that  is  very  naughty,'  and  he  looked 
severely  and  quite  sadly  at  me. 

'Yes,  I  have  every  reason  to  be  jealous, 


170  JULIE'S  DIARY 

and  you  must  tell  me  who  sent  you  those 
flowers.' 

I  felt  I  was  on  the  verge  of  tears  and 
turned  away  my  head.  He  took  my 
hand,  and  at  the  same  moment  I  burst  into 
sobs.  I  tried  to  take  away  my  hand,  but 
he  held  it  firmly,  and  went  on  holding  it 
without  a  word  till  I  stopped  crying,  then 
he  said:  'Look  here,  little  Julie.  I  have 
several  times  before  told  you  that  you  had 
no  reason  to  be  jealous,  and  you  have  as- 
sured me  that  you  never  were.  I  see  now 
that  after  all  this  is  not  quite  true,  so  I 
am  going  to  tell  you  a  story  which  will 
prove  to  you  how  unreasonable  is  your 
jealousy,  and  knowing  what  a  dear,  sweet 
girl  you  are,  I  am  sure  you  will  believe 
what  I  am  going  to  tell  you,  even  if  I 
don't  mention  names  and  details. 

'Before  I  met  you,  I  had  a  dear  woman 
friend,  who  came  to  see  me  just  as  you 
are  doing  now.  We  were  very  fond  of 
each  other,  and  I  am  still  very  fond  of  her. 
You  can  listen  to  this  without  anger  or 


JULIE'S  DIARY  171 

bitterness,  for  between  her  and  me  every- 
thing is  over.  She  is  one  of  the  best  and 
sweetest  women  I  have  ever  met.  She 
has  never  done  me  anything  but  good,  and 
during  the  long  time  she  was  my  friend 
there  was  never  a  bitter  word  between  us. 
Our  friendship  was  bright,  gay,  and  de- 
lightful ;  it  will  always  live  in  my  memory 
as  a  warm  and  cloudless  summer  day. 
Then  I  met  you.  You  came,  and  very 
soon  I  was  completely  yours.  You  were 
conquering  youth,  intoxicating  spring. 
It  meant  so  much  to  you  to  become  mine, 
that  it  made  love  seem  something  new  and 
wonderful  to  me.  You  filled  my  life  en- 
tirely. I  found  it  impossible  to  divide  my 
life  between  you  and  her.  Many  days 
had  not  passed  after  our  first  meeting  be- 
fore she  instinctively  felt  there  was  dan- 
ger ahead.  I  answered  her  questions 
evasively,  and  for  the  first  time  distrust 
shadowed  our  friendship.  I  was  so  little 
sure  of  myself  and  so  fond  of  her  that  I 
dared  not  venture  on  any  explanation,  an 


172  JULIE'S  DIARY 

explanation  which  I  knew  would  end  in 
parting.  Then  it  happened  that  one 
evening  you  were  here — perhaps  you  re- 
member it  is  about  three  weeks  ago.  I 
had  not  seen  her  for  a  fortnight;  I  con- 
stantly found  new  excuses  to  avoid  meet- 
ing her.  Then  that  evening  when  we  two 
were  sitting  together,  the  bell  rang.  I 
did  not  wish  to  answer  the  bell,  but  as  it 
went  on  ringing  I  was  obliged  to  go. 
When,  shortly  after  I  returned,  I  told  you 
it  had  been  a  messenger  from  the  theatre, 
and  when  you  noticed  how  serious  I  was, 
I  added  that  the  message  had  annoyed  me. 
I  even  told  you  it  was  something  about  a 
part  I  did  not  want  to  act.  There  was  no 
messenger,  it  was  she.  She  came,  driven 
by  longing  and  suspicion.  I  persuaded 
her  to  go  away  by  telling  her  a  lie — a  lie 
which  I  told  too  gladly  not  to  further 
arouse  her  suspicion.  She  went  without 
a  word,  pretending  to  believe  me,  but  as  I 
did  not  ask  her  to  come  to  see  me  during 
the  next  few  days,  she  sent  me  a  letter  on 


JULIE'S  DIARY  173 

the  day  that  I  was  going  to  act  my  new 
part.  A  letter  to  say  good-bye.  A  let- 
ter which,  with  all  its  bitter  disappoint- 
ment, was  stamped  with  gentleness  and 
refinement  of  thought.  The  preceding 
evening — you  remember  you  paid  me  a 
little  visit — she  had  been  outside  the  house, 
and  saw  you  coming  and  going.  Well,  it 
was  this  I  wanted  to  tell  you,  and  now 
judge  for  yourself  if  you  have  reason  to 
be  jealous.  Even  if  the  flowers  are  a 
greeting  from  her — a  thing  I  don't  know, 
for  they  were  sent  anonymously — do  you 
really  think  it  ought  to  cause  you  any  un- 
easiness?' 

This  was  his  story;  but  long  before  it 
was  finished  I  lay  in  his  arms,  asking  him 
in  my  heart  for  forgiveness. 

Yet,  it  was  very  unlucky  that  the  even- 
ing she  saw  me  I  had  gone  out  without  my 
veil. 


174  JULIE'S  DIARY 

EASTER  DAY,  17th  OF  APRIL. 

1DO  not  in  the  least  understand  Papa. 
If  it  did  not  sound  too  ridiculous  I 
should  be  tempted  to  think  that  the  cross 
Professor  Dry-fish  had  fallen  a  little  bit 
in  love  with  his  own  daughter. 

But  at  any  rate  it  is  quite  true  that  he 
has  become  much  nicer  to  me.  Every 
time  he  has  looked  at  me  during  the  last 
week,  he  has  with  praiseworthy  efforts 
tried  to  pull  his  face  into  a  smile,  pinched 
my  cheek,  and  in  other  ways  had  little 
jokes  with  me. 

But  the  most  wonderful  thing  hap- 
pened yesterday.  At  lunch  mother  said 
that  she  had  a  bad  cold  and  did  not  wish 
to  go  out.  'In  that  case/  said  father, 
'Julie  will  perhaps  go  with  me  to  the  ex- 
hibition.' 

It  was  quite  a  little  feast  my  gallant 
papa  arranged  for  me.  It  was  lovely 
weather,  and  father  proposed  that  we 
should  drive  to  town  in  an  open  cab.  We 
spent  about  an  hour  at  the  exhibition,  and 


JULIE'S  DIARY  175 

father  was  very  much  occupied  in  intro- 
ducing me  to  all  the  different  artists  we 
met.  Afterwards  we  went  into  a  Porta's 
restaurant,  which  father  from  old  habit  al- 
ways calls  'Minnie's/  and  there  we  drank 
port.  While  we  sat  dissipating  in  this 
way,  father  said  suddenly :  'Do  you  know, 
Julie,  it  strikes  me  that  your  clothes  need 
a  little  smartening  up,  and  as  I  am  rather 
flush  just  at  present  I  think  we  will  do  a 
little  shopping  together,  and  try  to  make 
my  little  girl  look  nice  for  the  summer.' 

We  went  to  draper  and  to  milliner,  to 
glover  and  to  shoemaker.  Everywhere 
father  made  a  terrible  fuss  before  we 
found  what  he  thought  really  suited  me. 
Finally,  he  insisted  on  giving  me  two  pairs 
of  silk  stockings,  but  when  I  remonstrated 
and  said  that  mother  would  not  like  it,  he 
gave  up  this  extravagance. 

In  a  really  jolly  mood  we  drove  home. 
When  we  got  into  the  hall,  I  said :  'Thank 
you  so  much,  father  dear,  I  have  enjoyed 
myself  immensely/  And  he  said,  'Now, 


176  JULIE'S  DIARY 

am  I  not  going  to  have  a  kiss  for  thanks?' 
Which  I  gave  him.  But  in  the  sitting- 
room  the  atmosphere  was  heavy  and  sad 
as  usual,  and  mother  lay  on  the  sofa  ill  and 
depressed. 


23rd  OF  APRIL  (MY  BIRTHDAY). 

I  HAVE  turned  the  first  corner.  On 
this  point  I  suppose  I  ought  to 
philosophise  in  good  old  spinster  fashion, 
and  fill  a  couple  of  pages  of  my  diary. 
But  I  am  not  the  least  bit  in  the  mood  for 
philosophy.  What  I  most  want  to  do  is 
to  dance  and  laugh,  and  laugh  and  dance, 
and  wake  the  sleeping  town  with  the  glad 
tidings  that  there  is  one  happy  human 
creature  in  the  world,  that  is  to  say  this  un- 
dersigned, this  Julie,  who  has  to-day,  in 
spite  of  her  great  age,  celebrated  her 
birthday  like  a  spoilt  baby. 

When  I  think  of  how  my  birthdays 
year  after  year  have  usually  passed,  I  can 
hardly  believe  this  one  has  been  real.  This 


JULIE'S  DIARY  177 

is  the  usual  birthday  programme.  The 
recipient  of  honours  is  awakened  by 
mama,  who  to  be  quite  sure  of  striking  the 
right  note  at  once,  has  her  eyes  full  of 
tears.  'Good  morning,  my  darling  child, 
and  many  happy  returns  of  the  day. 
Father  and  I  give  you  material  for  a  new 
summer  frock,  which  you  badly  need,  and 
grandmama  has  sent  you  money  to  pay 
for  the  making.'  At  lunch,  a  forced  sense 
of  gaiety  prevails.  During  the  afternoon 
I  receive  calls  from  Christiane,  Emmy, 
and  various  aunts,  who  all  bring  charming 
gifts  of  home  industry  and  a  lot  of  silly 
chat,  in  return  for  which  they  receive  a 
cup  of  sleep-producing  chocolate.  After 
this  the  festivities  are  really  over,  and  the 
day  closes  with  an  extra  tear-stained  duet 
between  the  birthday  child  and  her  mother, 
who  asks  forgiveness  for  having  brought 
her  into  this  world  full  of  misery. 

But  to-day  the  birthday  music  has  had 
a  different  note.  This  was  due,  primarily, 
to  the  change  in  papa,  who  at  lunch 


178  JULIE'S  DIARY 

showed  a  joy  of  life  and  an  extravagance 
about  wine  which  made  Frantz  quite 
giddy  and  expansive,  and  even  tempted 
mother  to  a  liveliness  which  was  almost 
funny,  but  which  suited  her  charmingly; 
it  was  as  if  she  were  shy  of  her  own  gaiety. 

In  contradiction  to  his  usual  habits  and 
to  the  bewilderment  of  the  aunts,  father 
honoured  the  chocolate  feast  by  his  pres- 
ence, and  by  joking  in  quite  unseemly 
fashion  with  his  old  relatives. 

After  this  I  dressed  myself  in  my  very 
best — officially  to  take  part  in  a  young 
folks'  dinner  at  Christiane's,  in  other 
words  to  celebrate  my  birthday  with  him. 

He  received  me  most  solemnly  in  even- 
ing dress,  offered  me  his  arm,  and  led  me 
into  the  sitting-room.  In  the  midst  of  the 
room  stood  a  white-covered  birthday  table, 
bending  under  the  weight — to  use  a  good 
newspaper  phrase — of  presents,  lovely 
things  for  the  toilets,  sweets,  and  flowers. 

He  had  on  his  word  of  honour  promised 
not  to  give  me  anything.  Now  he  stood 


JULIE'S  DIARY  179 

behind  and  laughed  over  his  lost  honour 
and  my  half -feigned  anger. 

The  birthday  child  had  been  allowed  to 
choose  her  own  dinner.  He  had  forced 
me  to  choose  several  extravagant  dishes 
by  threatening  me  with  chops  and  rice- 
pudding.  On  the  whole  he  turns  me  into 
a  horrid  gourmand.  He  has  for  instance 
taught  me  that  there  is  a  difference  in 
champagne.  Before,  I  always  thought 
that  champagne  was  champagne,  and  that 
finished  the  question.  While  now  I  know 
that  there  is  sweet  and  dry  and  extra  dry, 
and  that  champagne  is  sometimes  called 
Mumm,  sometimes  Heidseick,  and  heaps 
of  other  names ;  now  I  even  know  the  kind 
I  like  best,  which  he  says  is  a  great  prog- 
ress in  my  education. 

But  one  thing  is  certain,  one  should  not 
despise  good  food  and  wine.  There  is 
great  poetry  in  eating  and  drinking  choice 
things.  Even  if  I  would  be  content  to 
eat  stewed  cabbage  with  him,  I  cannot 
deny  that  I  enjoyed  very  much  his  deli- 


180  JULIE'S  DIARY 

cious  food,  the  prettily  laid  table,  and  our 
festive  clothes. 

When  we  had  reached  the  ice,  I  asked 
him  if  he  did  not  intend  to  make  me  a 
speech.  He  answered:  'The  speech  is  in 
your  bouquet.' 

'Am  I  to  be  satisfied  with  a  speech  in 
flower-language  ?' 

'Seek  and  thou  shalt  find.' 

I  took  up  the  bouquet  and  out  fell  a 
piece  of  paper.  He  looked  quite  shy 
when  he  said:  'You  have  even  made  me 
attempt  poetry.  Though  as  a  saving 
grace  I  must  add,  that  I  have  not  com- 
mitted the  crime  of  verse/ 

I  was  going  to  open  the  paper,  but  he 
asked  me  to  wait.  I  was  not  allowed  to 
read  the  speech  till  we  were  having  our 
coffee  in  the  other  room.  He  asked  if  I 
liked  it.  I  answered  him,  what  I  really 
felt,  that  he  was  the  most  wonderful  poet 
in  the  world. 

Which  I  think  he  is,  for  he  is  my  poet. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  181 

As  a  finish  to  my  report  of  the  day,  I 
place  his  speech  in  my  diary. 

THE  SPEECH  FOR  JULIE 

'I  need  not  tell  you  that  I  love  you. 

'You  see  that  in  my  eyes  when  I  hold 
you  in  my  arms,  you  hear  that  in  my  voice 
when  I  kiss  your  ears. 

'But  I  will  tell  you  why  you  have  so 
completely  bewitched  me.  It  is  because 
you  came  to  me  like  Eve,  the  mother  of 
humanity,  came  to  Adam,  like  the  newly- 
born  woman  in  trembling  expectation  and 
promise,  the  amazing  and  the  amazed. 

'I  can  already  see  you,  at  these  words, 
peep  at  me  inquiringly,  and  a  little  con- 
fused. Just  like  that  did  Eve  look  at 
Adam  when  they  met,  and  he  for  the  first 
time  let  sky  and  earth  hear  those  new  and 
bewildering  words:  I  love  you. 

'Just  as  you  are  now,  bending  your  head 
and  listening  with  something  at  the  same 
time  shy  and  radiant  in  your  eyes,  thus 


182  JULIE'S  DIARY 

was  Eve  as  a  living  young  maiden  before 
she  encircled  her  lions  with  the  sophisti- 
cated fig-leaves  of  experienced  matron- 
hood.  .  .  .  Look,  the  earth  is  wrapped 
in  grey  mist,  and  Adam  is  tired  of  the  life 
which  was  given  him. 

'A  sun-ray  pierces  the  clouds  and  the 
mist  is  dispelled.  There  she  stands, 
bringing  sunshine  and  warmth;  man's 
young  bride,  the  woman,  who  blushes,  not 
because  she  is  ashamed  of  her  own  naked- 
ness, but  because  she  wonders  and  re- 
joices at  her  own  power  and  grace,  which 
she  sees  in  Adam's  adoring  eyes. 

'She  glides  towards  him,  surrounded  by 
Cupids.  They  gambol  in  her  hair,  whis- 
per little  jokes  into  her  eager  ears.  They 
curve  her  lips  into  a  cupid's  bow,  they 
swing  on  her  delicate  bosom.  One  hides 
in  the  dimple  on  her  cheek,  another  in  the 
cleft  of  her  chin.  They  sit  in  loving 
couples  in  her  sweet  eyes.  You,  my  Eve, 
who  called  me  to  a  new  morn,  who  every 
time  you  enter  my  door  seem  to  me  to  be 


JULIE'S  DIARY  183 

the  sun-ray  which  pierces  the  mist  of  all 
my  grey  thoughts.' 


24th  OF  APRIL. 

I  AM  glad  I  am  twenty  years  old,  for 
then  I  have  known  him  two  years, 
when  I  was  nineteen  and  now  that  I  am 
twenty.  But  such  nonsense  I  don't  tell 
him,  for  he  would  only  laugh  and  call  me 
a  baby,  and  that  would  be  most  improper 
for  a  lady  of  twenty. 


25th  OF  APRIL. 

I  WAS  at  home  alone  this  afternoon. 
Suddenly  I  was  startled  out  of  my- 
self by  a  violent  ringing  of  the  bell  which 
made  me  tremble  with  fear. 

The  letter  was  for  mother;  I  put  it  on 
the  table  and  sat  down  again  in  the  win- 
dow. But  I  could  not  recover  my  peace- 
ful frame  of  mind.  The  violent  ringing 
still  sounded  in  my  ears,  and  seemed  to 


184  JULIE'S  DIARY 

say:  There  is  danger  ahead.  I  told  my- 
self I  was  silly  and  nervous,  of  course  the 
postman  had  been  in  a  hurry  and  pulled 
the  bell  too  vigorously.  I  wondered  from 
whom  the  letter  could  be ;  I  did  not  know 
the  handwriting.  I  went  over  and  looked 
at  it.  It  was  an  old-fashioned,  long  and 
narrow,  envelope,  and  the  writing  wan- 
dered up  and  down  in  big,  clumsy  letters. 
There  was  a  mistake  in  the  spelling. 
Who  in  the  world  could  it  be  from?  I 
knew  the  handwriting  on  all  the  letters 
mother  generally  got. 

I  wonder,  could  it  be  from  grand- 
mother's old  maid,  saying  that  she  was  ill? 
No,  that  was  not  very  likely,  we  should 
have  had  a  message  and  not  a  letter. 

But  from  whom  could  it  be?  Suddenly 
like  a  shriek  the  thought  went  through  me ; 
the  letter  is  about  me;  it  is  an  anonymous 
letter  about  me ;  I  began  to  tremble  again, 
so  that  I  could  hardly  hold  the  letter  in 
my  icy  cold  hands.  Of  course  that  was 
what  it  was.  It  was  quite  obvious,  the 


JULIE'S  DIARY  185 

writing  was  disguised,  and  the  sender  had 
wilfully  made  a  mistake  in  the  spelling. 
Could  it  be  from  her?  She  had  seen  me 
go  up  to  his  flat?  No,  he  said  she  was 
sweet  and  good.  Still,  when  people  are 
jealous,  they  often  do  things  they  would 
scorn  at  another  time.  Of  course,  it 
might  be  from  lots  of  other  people.  How 
did  I  know  that  I  had  not  been  seen  and 
recognised  heaps  of  times  when  I  visited 
him. 

In  that  case  I  was  lost.  Mother  would 
soon  be  back,  find  the  letter  and  read  it, 
and  I  should  see  her  despairing  eyes,  see 
her  sway  and  fall. 

No,  I  must  know  what  there  was  in  that 
letter.  I  held  it  up  against  the  light.  I 
could  see  nothing.  With  a  pin  I  tried  to 
open  it  carefully.  It  was  too  firmly 
closed.  Then  I  lost  my  senses  completely, 
and  I  tore  open  the  envelope,  and  with  a 
sigh  of  deliverance,  exhausted  by  anxiety, 
happy,  but  ashamed  of  myself,  I  sank  into 
a  chair  with  the  terrible  letter  in  my  hand. 


186  JULIE'S  DIARY 

It  was  an  advertisement  from  a  new  laun- 
dry in  the  Old  King's  Road. 

Now  that  it  is  over  I  can  laugh.  But, 
all  the  same,  he  little  knows  what  a  price 
I  pay  for  my  happiness. 


1st  OF  MAY  (SUNDAY). 
most  awful  day  in  my  life. 
JL  I  ought  to  have  gone  to  church  with 
mother,  but  I  paid  grandmother  a  visit  in- 
stead. On  my  way  I  passed  his  window. 
He  was  not  up  yet.  The  windows  were 
still  closed  in  his  bedroom  and  the  curtains 
were  drawn  over  one  of  them.  I  wished 
that  I  could  have  run  up  to  him,  shaken 
him  and  teased  him,  till  he  was  wide  awake. 
It  was  a  horrid  cold  spring  morning 
with  drizzle  and  fog.  People  hurried 
along  to  church,  looking  cross  and  hiding 
themselves  in  ugly  rain-cloaks.  They  cer- 
tainly looked  as  if  they  needed  all  the  com- 
fort their  religion  could  give  them,  while 


JULIE'S  DIARY  187 

in  my  heart  there  was  Sabbath  without 
church. 

Grandmother,  already  in  full  trim, 
wearing  her  Sunday  cap,  sat  propped  up 
amongst  her  pillows.  In  the  window  sat 
old  Marie  with  her  knitting,  reading  the 
paper.  How  peaceful  everything  looked, 
like  a  quiet  cosy  convent  church  with  in- 
cense and  pot-pourri. 

Grandmother  patted  my  hand  with  her 
dry,  wrinkled  old  hands.  I  could  see  in 
her  eyes  that  a  gift  lay  within  them;  but 
grandmother  is  not  of  the  garrulous  sort. 
She  started:  'I  don't  think  the  weather  is 
very  nice  to-day/  Then  again,  a  little 
later,  'I  should  not  think  many  people 
would  go  to  the  woods  to-day.'  At  last, 
'  I  wonder  if  Julie  would  like  to  go  to 
the  theatre  to-night?'  Of  course  Julie 
would  like  it  very  much,  and  she  knew  also 
which  theatre  she  would  choose,  for  my 
play  was  on  to-night. 

'But  have  you  not  already  seen  that 
play?'  asked  grandmama. 


188  JULIE'S  DIARY 

'Yes,  but  I  should  simply  love  to  see  it 
again.' 

'Another  actor  is  playing  in  it  to-night,' 
said  Marie  from  the  window.  'They  say 
in  the  paper  that  Morch  is  ill.' 

I  don't  think  I  shrieked.  I  only  re- 
member that  I  stood  with  the  paper  near 
the  window,  that  I  suddenly  heard  Marie 
exclaim,  'But,  good  heavens,  Miss!'  that 
the  room  turned  round  with  me,  and  that 
I  heard  grandmama's  voice  far  away,  say- 
ing, 'Poor  child,  poor  child!'  and  that  I 
found  myself  in  the  easy-chair,  a  basin 
with  water  at  my  side,  while  Marie  held  a 
smelling-bottle  under  my  nose.  I  looked 
with  astonished  eyes  from  Marie  to  grand- 
mama.  What  in  the  world  had  happened? 
At  the  same  moment  the  memory  and  the 
terror  came  back  to  my  mind,  and  if  Marie 
had  not  had  a  firm  grip  on  my  arm,  so 
that  she  hurt  me,  I  think  I  should  have 
fallen  again. 

My  first  thought  was,  'What  am  I  go- 
ing to  say  to  grandmama?'  I  pretended 


JULIE'S  DIARY  189 

that  I  was  only  slowly  coining  back  to 
consciousness,  so  that  to  regain  time  for 
reflection. 

'Have  you  had  anything  to  eat  this 
morning?'  she  asked. 

'No,  grandmama.' 

'I  thought  not.  But  that  is  very  wrong 
of  you,  Julie.  It  is  not  good  for  young 
girls  to  go  out  without  a  proper  breakfast. 
Fetch  a  glass  of  wine,  Marie.' 

When  we  were  alone  grandmama  called 
me  to  her.  I  knelt  down  in  front  of  her, 
hid  my  head  in  her  lap,  bursting  into  tears. 
I  tried  to  control  myself,  but  I  simply 
could  not  stop.  Marie  brought  in  the 
wine.  I  heard  her  come  and  go,  but  I 
went  on  sobbing,  while  grandmama  softly 
stroked  my  hair.  After  all  it  was  good  to 
weep  one's  sorrow  out,  and  blessedly  com- 
forting to  feel  grandmama's  gentle  hand 
on  my  head. 

'Well,  well,  my  dear  child,'  she  repeated, 
while  the  weeping  grew  more  quiet.  But 
I  still  kept  my  head  in  her  lap,  not  daring 


190  JULIE'S  DIARY 

to  meet  her  eyes.  Yet  the  thought  tor- 
tured me,  that  I  had  to  get  away,  get  to 
him  to  find  out  the  truth. 

Then  grandmama  said,  and  I  shall 
never  forget  the  unspeakable  gentleness  in 
her  voice.  'You  need  not  fear  any  ques- 
tion, darling.  I  am  only  an  old  woman, 
but  I  remember  my  youth,  and  I  know 
that  young  hearts  may  have  joys  and  sor- 
rows which  old  hands  should  not  touch. 
But  should  life  which  God  forbid — 
bring  my  little  girl  into  some  entangle- 
ment she  cannot  escape,  as  long  as  I  am 
alive,  she  can  always  come  to  me.  And 
now,  get  up,  child,  and  run  away,  so  as  not 
to  keep  them  waiting  lunch  for  you.  We 
need  not  say  anything  to  father  and 
mother  about  what  has  happened  to-day, 
and  the  theatre  ticket  we  will  keep  for  an- 
other day.  To-night  it  will  be  wiser  for 
you  to  get  early  to  bed.' 

I  stood  outside  his  door.  I  had  rushed 
through  the  streets,  but  now  that  I  was 
here  I  dared  not  ring.  As  soon  as  I  en- 


JULIE'S  DIARY  191 

tered  the  house  I  seemed  to  feel  the  heavy 
air  of  a  sick-room,  and  here,  outside  the 
door,  a  sweet,  oppressive  air  crept  over 
me  with  a  curious,  choking  sensation. 
When  I  ring  the  bell  the  door  will  open, 
and  pale  and  weeping  the  maid  will  stand 
before  me.  I  shall  not  need  to  ask  any 
questions.  God  in  heaven,  you  could  not, 
could  not  be  so  cruel.  I  began  to  pray, 
'Our  Father,  which  art  in  heaven  .  .  .' 
No,  no,  not  now — God  will  only  be  angry 
and  punish  me,  because  I,  who  never  think 
of  Him  otherwise,  come  to  Him  out  of 
sheer  cowardice.  I  rang  the  bell;  its 
muffled,  soundless  ringing  startled  me. 
Of  course — I  said  to  myself,  I  even  think 
I  smiled — of  course  they  have  tied  some- 
thing round  the  bell  so  that  it  shall  not  dis- 
turb him. 

Steps  sounded  within,  and  the  door  was 
opened  by  a  stranger,  a  tall,  commanding- 
looking  woman.  She  said — I  think  be- 
fore I  had  asked — I  suppose  she  guessed 
my  errand.  'Mr.  Morch  is  very  ill.'  God 


192  JULIE'S  DIARY 

be  praised,  he  still  lives!  It  was  diph- 
theria, the  lady  explained,  and  he  took  ill 
the  night  before  last.  Only  the  day  before 
I  had  been  with  him.  The  doctor  said  it 
was  dangerous. 

The  lady  looked  as  though,  in  her  opin- 
ion, it  was  time  for  me  to  go. 

I  asked,  though  I  knew  it  was  hopeless, 
if  I  could  be  allowed  to  see  him. 

'No,  Miss,  that  is  quite  impossible. 
The  doctor  has  forbidden  all  visitors.  Be- 
sides, it  is  contagious.' 

'I  don't  mind  that  at  all.  If  you  would 
just  let  me  have  a  glimpse  of  him.' 

The  lady  looked  at  me  a  little  more 
kindly.  'I  am  sorry,  but  it's  quite  impossi- 
ble. Perhaps  the  young  lady  is  Mr. 
Morch's  fiancee?' 

The  blood  rushed  to  my  face  as  I  an- 
swered, 'No.' 

She  looked  astonished  and  asked,  'From 
whom  shall  I  give  a  message?' 

'From  the  young  lady/ 

'A  young  lady?' 


JULIE'S  DIARY  193 

'No,  the  young  lady.' 

I  suppose  she  is  now  thinking  the  worst 
of  me,  but  what  does  that  matter  if  he 
only  gets  my  greeting. 

How  I  have  lived  through  this  day,  how 
I  have  been  able  to  control  myself,  so  that 
no  one  has  guessed  anything,  I  don't 
know. 

I  only  know  that  about  five  or  six 
o'clock  I  couldn't  bear  to  go  on  sitting  ig- 
norant at  home.  I  went  out — Heaven 
knows  with  what  excuse — stood  again  out- 
side the  house,  but  did  not  dare  to  go  up. 
I  got  hold  of  a  messenger  and  sent  him. 
The  condition  was  unchanged;  perhaps 
there  was  a  very  slight  improvement. 

This  strange  woman  said  I  could  not  see 
him.  She,  to  whom  he  is  just  a  patient 
like  all  other  patients,  she  is  allowed  to  be 
with  him,  to  help  him,  nurse  him;  every 
minute  of  the  day  she  knows  how  he  is,  if 
there  is  improvement  and  hope.  While  I, 

M 


194  JULIE'S  DIARY 

who  love  him,  I,  who  would  not  for  a  mo- 
ment hesitate  to  give  him  my  life,  I  must 
stand  outside  his  door  like  one  of  the 
crowd  and  receive  what  information  she,  a 
hireling,  is  graciously  pleased  to  give  me. 
She  bars  the  door  to  me,  she  does  not  even 
allow  me  to  give  him,  my  dearest  and  only 
one,  a  single  glance. 

And  so  powerless  am  I  that  I  must  obey 
this  person,  even  be  amiable  to  her  to  per- 
suade her  to  give  me  the  latest  news. 

I  would  gladly  run  away  from  every- 
thing here  at  home.  Willingly  bear  the 
blame  and  the  disgrace  if  I  could  be  with 
him,  sit  near  his  bed,  and  fight  with  death 
for  him.  I  have  ransacked  my  heart,  and 
I  know  I  would  do  it  without  a  moment's 
hesitation. 

But  I  know  also  that  he  would  never 
allow  it.  For  he  does  not  love  me  as  I 
love  him.  His  love  is  wise  and  prudent, 
and  thinks  of  consequences ;  his  love  knows 
exactly  how  far  it  should  go ;  it  knows  the 
frontier  which  it  never  intends  to  pass. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  195 

But  my  love  knows  no  goal  but  him, 
neither  now  nor  in  the  future. 

Therefore  I  must  be  wise  and  stay  here ; 
here  where  I  have  nothing  to  do,  where 
I  am  gasping  like  a  fish  on  shore,  because 
the  air  round  me  holds  nothing  of  him. 
His  name  is  never  mentioned,  and  I  can 
never  even  hear  it.  To  no  one  can  I  tell 
my  fear,  this  fear  which  nearly  kills  me, 
because  I  keep  it  shut  up  within  my  own 
heart. 

Stay  here;  talk  to  father  and  mother 
about  indifferent  things,  while  only  one 
thought  is  in  my  mind — him;  only  one 
word  on  my  lips — his  name. 

Stay  here;  sit  quietly  and  nicely  at 
meals  and  at  work,  while  all  my  desire 
drags  me  to  his  bed. 

To  think  that  he  could  be  ill  and  die, 
and  that  I  should  never  hear  of  it,  except 
through  a  notice  in  the  papers.  Die  be- 
fore I  could  say  the  last  farewell,  before 
I  could  give  him  a  word  or  a  glance. 


196  JULIE'S  DIARY 

So  poverty-stricken,  so  lawless  is  my 
love,  so  miserable  its  conditions.  In 
gloom  and  darkness  it  must  creep  along; 
never  dare  to  step  out  into  the  daylight 
and  demand  its  rights. 

If  you  are  taken  from  me  in  this  night, 
my  beloved,  then  as  surely  as  my  poor  love 
is  my  only  treasure  I  shall  follow  you. 

But  if  to-morrow  you  wake  up  to  life 
and  health,  if  the  day  comes  that  I  can 
again  be  with  you,  and  you  will  tell  me 
that  you  love  me,  then  I  will  laugh  at  all 
my  sorrows  and  confide  to  you  my  secret 
that  I  am  richer  than  any  one  else  in  the 
world. 

O  God,  that  I  may  keep  you! 


2nd  OF  MAY. 

rTlHIS  morning  Christiane  brought  me 

A     the  following  letter  addressed  to  her : 

'My  dear  little  girl!    Did  it  frighten 

you  so  terribly  to  read  that  I  was  ill !     But 


JULIE'S  DIARY  197 

what  could  I  do?  I  dared  not  write  di- 
rect to  you,  and  your  friend's  address  I 
have  only  this  moment  learned  from  your 
letter.  You  dear  child,  who  was  so  sorry 
and  imagined  that  I  was  going  to  die  and 
leave  you.  You  have  no  reason  to  be 
afraid,  firstly  evil  weeds  never  wither,  and 
secondly  because  I  have  not  yet  the  slight- 
est intention  of  quitting  life. 

'It  is  awfully  dear  of  you  to  say  that  in 
spite  of  infection,  family  nonsense,  etc., 
you  would  come  to  me.  But  the  fever  has 
not  left  me  quite  so  stupid  that  I  should 
dream  of  accepting  such  an  offer.  Be- 
sides, at  the  present  moment  I  am  any- 
thing but  a  charming  sight ;  and  to  this  add 
that  I  am  the  Grossest  and  most  unamiable 
patient  one  can  imagine.  If  you  saw  me 
just  now,  I  am  sure  I  should  quite  ruin 
the  nice  impression  I  otherwise  may  have 
made  on  you.  Altogether  I  am  of  the 
opinion  that  sick  people  should  not  allow 
themselves  to  worry  the  healthy  ones. 
They  ought  to  hide  themselves  away  with 


198  JULIE'S  DIARY 

all  the  ugliness  and  the  unappetising  de- 
tails of  the  sick-room. 

'As  soon  as  I  again  feel  myself  fit  for 
good  society  I  will  send  you  a  message, 
and  we  will  then  take  our  revenge  for  this 
long  parting. 

'I  promise  you  that  the  desire  of  seeing 
you  again  will  quickly  make  me  well,  and 
that,  in  spite  of  wild  fever  dreams,  I  will 
be  faithful  to  you. 

*I  force  all  hideous  fever  dreams  away 
by  thinking  of  you,  and  during  the  night 
it  seems  to  me  you  are  standing  near 
my  bed,  holding  your  dear  cool  hand  on 
my  burning  forehead.  Thus  you  are — 
though  far  away — my  nurse  and  my 
healer. 

'Forgive  this  short  letter,  but  the  least 
exertion  makes  my  weak  head  giddy.  I 
don't  send  you  any  kisses,  for  even  in  my 
thoughts  my  sickness  must  not  touch  your 
young  health  and  beauty.  I  understand 
so  well  the  leper,  who  watched  in  wonder- 
ment a  beautiful  woman  pass  by,  and  then 


JULIE'S  DIARY  199 

with  humble  adoration  kissed  the  mark  of 
her  footsteps  in  the  dust. — Yours,      A.' 

He  loves  flowers.  Unfortunately  the 
state  of  my  finances  does  not  permit  a  very 
great  extravagance.  But  even  if  I  have 
to  dig  the  money  out  of  the  pavement,  he 
shall,  every  day  until  we  meet  again,  have 
some  choice  flowers  from  me. 

To-day  a  black-red  rose  amongst  red 
crocuses.  Which  means,  all  my  thoughts 
are  circling  like  foam  of  white  doves 
round  you,  my  splendid  dark-eyed  Sheik. 


3rd  OF  MAY. 

A  HANDFUL  of  gigantic  mignon- 
ettes and  some  forget-me-nots:  I 
come  to  you  without  splendour,  but  I  give 
you  my  love  strong  and  passionate  like  the 
scent  of  the  mignonette.  I  give  you  my 
trusting  faithfulness  like  the  child-eyed- 
flower  of  the  forget-me-not. 


200  JULIE'S  DIARY 

4th  OF  MAY. 

VIOLETS  and  white  moss-roses: 
My  love  grows  in  secret,  yet,  it  is 
blue  like  the  summer  sky,  white  like  the 
winter  snow. 


5th  OF  MAY. 

ORCHIDS  and  young  beech  leaves: 
In  the  sombre  atmosphere  of  the 
home,  far  from  sunshine  and  reality,  my 
soul  shaped  itself  into  a  flower  pale  and 
strange.  Then  you  came  and  beyond  all 
the  weeds  and  undergrowths  of  the  wood, 
my  soul  ascended  joyfully  with  spring's 
glad  tidings. 


6th  OF  MAY. 

ASMOKE  yellow  rose,  a  wallflower, 
yellow    anemones!    Do    you    re- 
proach me  that  I  am  jealous?    Don't  you 
understand  that  my  jealousy  is  like  a 


JULIE'S  DIARY  201 

burning  flame,  encircling  my  love  with  a 
radiant  halo. 


7th  OF  MAY. 

TWO  blush-roses  and  (what  is  a  great 
rarity  at  this  time  of  the  year)  two 
pink  carnations,  equally  beautiful,  each 
the  other's  complement  in  colouring  and 
scent,  though  so  different,  they  commingle 
in  an  unrivalled  meeting  of  love.  Like 
the  rose  and  the  carnation  here  meet  in  an 
intoxicating  kiss,  thus  my  beloved,  I  shall 
soon  be  again  in  your  arms. 


8th  OF  MAY. 

I  HAVE  been  very  horrid,  and  it 
would  serve  me  right,  if  he  had  been 
angry  with  me.  Yes,  I  wish  he  had  been 
angry,  I  would  rather  he  had  hurt  me, 
than  looked  at  me  with  his  tired,  indulgent 
smile. 

I  don't  know  how  it  happened,  but  from 


202  JULIE'S  DIARY 

the  very  beginning  we  struck  a  false  note, 
and  we  got  more  and  more  out  of  tune  as 
the  evening  went  on.  Perhaps  it  was  that 
I  had  been  looking  forward  to  our  meet- 
ing, and  had  imagined  it  was  going  to  be 
something  quite  wonderful.  From  the 
moment  when  I  crept  up  the  backstairs,  so 
that  the  nurse  should  not  see  me,  and  was 
steered  into  his  room  and  met  his  glance, 
which  though  kind  was  weak  and  not  radi- 
ant as  I  had  imagined,  I  was  so  childishly 
disappointed  that  I  was  unable  to  say  the 
words  which  filled  my  heart.  Instead  I 
only  found  words  so  strange  and  unnat- 
ural that  they  even  grated  on  my  own  ears. 
There  was  no  scene  between  us,  he  only 
looked  surprised  at  me,  and  we  continued 
to  talk;  but  while  the  real  harmony  be- 
came more  and  more  remote,  his  face  grew 
nervous  with  a  tortured  and  tired  expres- 
sion. At  last  he  lay  with  half -closed  eyes, 
now  and  again  wiping  his  forehead  with 
his  pocket-handkerchief. 

How  could  I  have  resisted  falling  on 


JULIE'S  DIARY  203 

my  knees  by  his  bed,  begging  his  forgive- 
ness. But  instead  of  that  I  said  in  an  of- 
fended voice:  'I  am  sure  you  prefer  me 
to  go.  Of  course  I  don't  want  to  tire 
you.' 

He  lay  a  moment  without  answer. 
Then  in  his  most  polite  and  correct  voice, 
the  one  I  call  his  best  society  voice,  which 
always  seems  to  push  me  a  hundred  miles 
away,  he  said,  'Do  excuse  me  for  not  being 
very  entertaining,  but  I  am  not  yet  fit  for 
society,  and  I  am  afraid  I  ought  to  rest 
now.' 

It  was  the  first  time  we  parted  without 
arranging  a  new  meeting.  I  absolutely 
hated  him  when  he  smilingly  gave  me  his 
hand  to  say  good-bye,  letting  me  go  with- 
out telling  me  that  I  was  the  silliest  and 
most  spoiled  girl  in  the  world,  and  that  I 
deserved  to  be  whipped  like  a  naughty 
child. 

Now  I  am  here  alone  with  my  misery. 
The  day  to  which  I  had  looked  forward  as 
to  no  other  has  been  ruined.  What  in  the 


204  JULIE'S  DIARY 

world  is  he  thinking  of  me?  A  thought- 
less, selfish  girl,  who  is  offended  because 
she  does  not  find  him  as  well  as  she  ex- 
pected. 


9th  or  MAY. 

HOW  good  and  how  wise  he  is. 
A  letter  from  him  has  crossed  the 
letter  I  at  once  wrote  him.  • 

He  writes:  'I  was  not  so  very  well, 
when  you  came  yesterday,  and  therefore, 
my  little  girl  did  not  get  the  reception  she 
ought  to  have  had,  and  that  also  prevented 
me  from  thanking  her  for  all  her  love  dur- 
ing this  time  and  always.  I  am,  as  I  have 
told  you  before,  a  most  disagreeable  pa- 
tient. All  the  same,  I  wonder  if  you  can 
manage  it,  will  you  come  and  see  me  to- 
morrow, and  please  try  to  be  a  little  in- 
dulgent with  me,  even  if  I  should  not 
quite  have  got  the  better  of  my  nerves/ 


JULIE'S  DIARY  205 

14th  OF  MAY. 

HE  is  almost  well.  For  the  last  few 
days  he  has  been  out  of  bed,  and 
yesterday  he  went  out  for  a  drive. 

I  see  him  every  day  either  in  the  morn- 
ing or  the  evening.  To  do  this,  I  have 
invented  a  young  girl  whom  I  meet  at 
Christiane's,  and  whom  I  am  teaching  to 
paint  on  china.  Every  day  I  am  amazed 
I  am  not  found  out,  and  I  am  getting 
quite  reckless  and  go  to  his  flat  without 
the  slightest  hesitation  even  in  broad  day- 
light. 

But  I  know  that  should  the  day  come 
that  I  am  found  out,  and  they  forbid  me 
to  see  him,  I  shall  leave  home.  About 
that  I  have  quite  made  up  my  mind,  that 
is  irrevocable.  Then  let  come  what  may. 
I  have  said  nothing  to  him  about  this,  yet 
it  is  he  who  has  given  me  the  courage  to 
take  so  decided  a  resolution.  For  during 
these  last  days,  it  has  become  more  clear  to 
me  that  after  all  his  love  for  me  is  not  a 
mere  passing  fancy.  I  am  trying  to 


206  JULIE'S  DIARY 

make  myself  useful  to  him,  and  I  believe 
I  have  succeeded  and  that  he  is  beginning 
to  miss  me  when  I  am  not  there.  I  go 
errands  for  him,  read  to  him,  and  write 
letters  at  his  dictation.  He  calls  me  his 
private  secretary,  and  discusses  all  his 
affairs  with  me. 

In  reality  we  are  just  like  man  and  wife. 
I  come  and  go  as  if  his  flat  were  my  own. 
I  look  after  his  flowers,  and  when  I  am 
not  reading  to  him  or  have  other  work  to 
do,  I  sew  initials  on  his  table  linen.  Even 
his  old  maid  has  got  into  the  habit  of  ask- 
ing my  advice  about  what  to  give  him  for 
dinner — for  monsieur  is  rather  difficult  to 
please. 

He  is  on  the  whole,  I  think,  what  one 
calls  an  egoist.  As  a  bachelor,  he  is  ac- 
customed to  have  the  whole  household 
working  for  his  comfort,  and  he  takes  it 
as  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world,  that 
I,  as  well  as  the  maid,  think  only  of  wait- 
ing on  him  and  giving  him  pleasure.  But 
it  suits  him  to  be  a  turk  and  he  is  the  most 


JULIE'S  DIARY  207 

amiable  tyrant.  When  he  is  resting  in 
languorous  convalescence  on  the  couch, 
and  I  bring  now  one  thing  and  now  an- 
other, for  which  he  gratefully  thanks  me, 
kissing  my  hand,  it  would  not  matter  what 
his  command  would  be,  I  should,  without 
the  slightest  hesitation,  obey  it. 


20th  OF  MAY. 

I  HAVE  travelled  with  him  to  fairy- 
tale land,  which  is  only  a  two  hours' 
journey  from  the  old  statue  in  the  King's 
Square.  I  don't  know  the  real  name  of 
the  place,  and  in  regard  to  its  position,  I 
can  only  say  that  one  starts  driving  along 
the  King's  Road,  and  in  a  couple  of  hours 
one  is  there.  But  on  the  other  hand  I 
know  exactly  what  it  looks  like.  A  white, 
thatched  cottage,  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
forest  on  the  edge  of  the  lake.  The  en- 
trance to  the  house  is  from  the  wood 
through  a  big  open  verandah  covered  with 
Virginia  creeper,  and  in  the  gable  and  f  ac- 


208  JULIE'S  DIARY 

ing  the  lake  is  a  balcony  of  green  painted 
wood.  An  old  peasant  woman  stands  in 
the  verandah  courtesying.  During  the 
day  the  sun  shines  from  a  cloudless  sky, 
and  at  night  it  is  full  moon.  Across  the 
lake,  in  the  moonlight,  glides  a  white  boat, 
from  which  comes  faint  singing  of  young 
voices. 

I  have  been  with  him  in  fairy-tale  land, 
seen  the  sun  set  and  the  moon  rise,  seen 
the  sun  rise  again  and  sink  behind  the 
woods,  lighting  with  its  glow  the  windows 
of  the  white  village.  But  to  me  it  seems 
that  the  twenty- four  hours  is  a  whole  life- 
time, where  I  have  lived  with  him  in  a 
world  created  just  for  us  two,  furnished 
with  all  nature's  loveliest  gifts,  and  with 
a  dear  old  peasant  woman-fairy  to  do  our 
bidding. 

I  pinch  my  arm  to  be  sure  I  am  not 
dreaming.  No,  it  is  no  dream.  On  the 
table  in  front  of  me  stands  the  bouquet 
of  wild  flowers  the  old  woman  gave  me 
when  we  left,  and  near  my  bed  are  my 


JULIE'S  DIARY  209 

boots  with  the  marks  of  field  and  wood 
on  them. 

It  happened  like  this :  The  day  before 
yesterday  father  and  mother  went  to  Soro 
to  visit  an  old  aunt,  who  yesterday  was 
eighty  years  of  age,  and  her  son,  who  is 
master  of  the  large  public  school  there. 
They  return  to-morrow.  When  he  heard 
of  this,  he  said,  '  Then  we  will  also  go  for 
a  journey/  Though  at  first  I  thought  it 
was  quite  impossible  and  took  it  as  a  joke, 
it  grew  all  the  same  into  reality.  After 
all,  I  philosophised,  if  the  worst  comes  to 
the  worst  I  can  only  be  found  out.  I  got 
Christiane  to  send  me  an  invitation  for  a 
picnic  to-day,  with  a  preliminary  visit  to 
her  home  overnight,  so  that  we,  like  eager 
young  girls,  might  start  with  the  dawn. 
To  this  arrangement  the  parents  gave 
their  consent  and  went  off  to  the  birthday 
in  Soro. 

But  yesterday  afternoon,  at  six  o'clock, 
two  young  girls  trotted  along  the  King's 
Road.  Near  the  inn  they  were  overtaken 

N 


210  JULIE'S  DIARY 

by  a  closed  carriage.  It  stopped,  the  door 
opened,  one  of  the  young  girls  disap- 
peared within,  and  off  again  rolled  the 
carriage. 

While  Christiane  turned  back,  prepar- 
ing for  a  day  of  seclusion,  for  I  had  abso- 
lutely forbidden  her  to  show  her  pretty 
face  in  the  streets  of  Copenhagen — he  and 
I  drove  on  to  fairyland.  My  question  of 
whither  and  wherefore  he  had  answered 
with  these  words:  'Do  not  worry  about 
anything,  just  meet  me  as  you  stand  near 
the  inn.  I  will  come  with  a  carriage, 
bring  with  me  everything  you  are  likely 
to  need,  and  I  will  carry  you  away  to  a 
remote  and  very  little-known  country  inn, 
where  an  old  woman  serves  hot  water  to 
picnic  parties,  and  occasionally,  for  fair 
words  and  money,  is  ready  to  prepare  a 
simple  country  meal  and  a  clean  night's 
lodging.' 

When  I  had  got  safely  into  the  carriage 
and  recovered  my  nerve  a  little,  I  could 
not  help  laughing  at  noticing  the  amount 


JULIE'S  DIARY  211 

of  luggage  with  which  we  started.  He 
explained  that  there  was  really  no  more 
than  what  we  absolutely  needed.  'In  the 
one  bag  are  your  things ;  in  the  other  mine. 
In  the  basket  is  the  wine,  and  in  the  hold- 
all a  pillow  for  you  and  some  sheets  in 
case  those  they  give  us  are  not  properly 
aired.  I  trust  that  you  will  find  all  there 
ought  to  be.'  There  was  indeed,  and 
more  besides. 

To  be  quite  safe  he  pulled  the  curtain 
over  the  window.  I  thought  it  wonder- 
ful to  sit  like  that,  without  knowing 
whither  we  drove,  dreaming  that  he  and 
I  were  starting  on  a  fairy -trip  out  into  the 
wide  world. 

Then  we  reached  fairyland. 

The  old  woman  stood  in  the  verandah 
and  courtesied  her  welcome.  She  wore  a 
gold-embroidered  cap,  and  a  skirt  of  stiff 
green  homespun.  She  was  a  buxom,  cosy, 
motherly  person,  and  called  me  'madam.' 

Our  luggage  was  carried  in,  and  the 
coachman  had  orders  to  return  next  even- 


212  JULIE'S  DIARY 

ing  at  eight  o'clock.  We  went  for  a  walk 
along  the  lake  till  dinner  was  ready. 

The  sun  was  just  sinking.  We  saw 
the  big  ball  of  fire  disappear  between  the 
trees,  and  watched  the  illumination  of  the 
sky.  The  beech  leaves  shone  like  newly- 
minted  coins,  and  over  the  lake  the  fading 
sunlight  rippled  like  mother-o'-pearl. 
We  stood  watching  first  the  glowing 
forest,  then  the  shining  lake.  From  the 
other  side  of  the  lake  sounded  the  chimes 
of  church  bells  curiously  near,  and  yet 
solemnly  far  away.  From  the  under- 
growth came  sleepy  twitters.  No  other 
sounds.  We  stood  close  to  each  other, 
cheek  against  cheek,  silent,  fascinated, 
happy. 

The  ball  of  the  sun  had  disappeared. 
The  fire  in  the  clouds  died  away,  a  pale 
mist  blotted  out  the  colours  of  the  lake. 

Then  we  heard  a  voice  calling  from  the 
cottage,  and  we  went  in — went  in  to  con- 
tinue the  fairy-tale  inside  the  old  fairy's 
wood-hut. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  213 

I  only  remember  that  the  room  was  pa- 
pered in  blue,  and  that  it  had  a  sanded 
floor ;  that  in  the  middle  of  the  room  stood 
a  table  with  a  coarse,  but  shining,  linen 
cloth,  and  on  the  table  two  three-armed  sil- 
ver candelabras,  which  gave  to  the  simple 
room  a  touch  of  mysterious  richness  and 
distinction. 

And  the  food!  How  good  it  smelt; 
how  deliciously  it  tasted,  and  what  good 
appetites  we  had.  Everything  tasted  as 
if  it  came  straight  from  Nature's  kitchen, 
the  pink  ham  and  the  parsley-stuffed 
chicken,  as  well  as  the  yellow  soufflet  with 
its  sugar-powdered  brown  crust! 

We  were  happy  and  unconcerned  as 
children,  and  the  old  woman  fussed  about, 
while  she  chatted  with  us,  saying  how  de- 
lighted she  was  to  see  such  happy  young 
people  in  her  house. 

When  we  had  reached  the  coffee,  the 
woman  asked  if  'madam'  would  not  like 
to  make  it  herself.  I  went  with  her  into 
the  kitchen,  but  had  to  call  him  out  at  once 


214  JULIE'S  DIARY 

so  that  he  could  admire  all  the  beautiful 
old  copper  things.  On  one  shelf  stood  an 
entire  regiment  of  red  tea-urns,  some 
short  and  fat,  others  slender  and  elegant, 
with  spouts  like  top-hats. 

Then  it  was  ten  o'clock,  and,  after  coun- 
try fashion,  we  went  to  bed. 

While  he  sat  smoking  his  cigar,  the  old 
woman  led  me  up  a  creaking  staircase  to 
the  'guest-room.'  It  was  large,  with  low 
ceiling,  and  perfumed  with  violets  and 
cleanliness.  The  furniture  consisted  only 
of  a  washstand,  some  chairs  and  a  table, 
and  the  bed.  But  the  bed  was  a  piece  of 
splendour  .  .  .  dark,  thick  mahog- 
any, with  brass  balls  and  ornaments.  It 
was  heavy,  large,  and  monumental,  and  a 
canopy  of  faded  brocade  was  draped 
above  it.  With  pride  the  woman  told  me 
that  her  late  husband  had  bought  it  at  the 
auction  of  the  belongings  of  the  old  prin- 
cess. She  lit  the  candles,  bade  me  good- 
night, and  went  away. 

I  began  to  undress.     I  sat  in  front  of 


JULIE'S  DIARY  215 

the  mirror  in  the  dressing-gown  he  had 
brought.  Through  the  balcony  door  a 
moonbeam  crept  in  across  the  room.  I 
stood  up,  opened  the  door — the  evening 
was  mild  as  at  midsummer — and  went  out. 
Never  have  I  seen  anything  more  beauti- 
ful. Like  a  shiny  silver  mirror  the  lake 
was  set  in  a  frame  of  white  mist,  which 
now  and  again  broke  for  a  moment  to  un- 
veil fantastic  landscapes  with  vividly  lit 
trees. 

I  heard  a  door  open,  but  I  did  not  turn. 
I  felt  he  was  just  behind  me.  I  stood 
in  joyful  expectation,  breathing  quick 
drafts  of  balmy  air. 

His  arm  stole  round  my  waist,  his  lips 
touched  my  ear,  and,  like  a  breath  of  the 
summer  night,  his  voice  whispered,  'My 
dear  little  wife!' 

In  the  same  moment  the  song  sounded 
again  from  the  lake,  'Peace  falls  o'er  land 
and  town.'  and  out  of  the  mist  comes  a 
boat,  leaving  behind  it  a  golden  streak. 


216  JULIE'S  DIARY 

I  woke  with  the  feeling  that  some  great 
pleasure  was  in  store  for  me,  and  my  eyes 
were  filled  with  sunshine.  What  is  it? 
Where  am  I?  I  asked  myself,  and 
blinked  my  eyes  to  be  wide  awake.  Then 
I  saw  him  sitting  in  his  shirt  sleeves  by 
the  little  table  in  front  of  the  balcony 
door,  serious,  and  deeply  occupied  in  shav- 
ing. For  a  little  while  I  lay  quietly  en- 
joying this  precious  sight.  He  made  the 
most  miserable  faces,  and  handled  the 
razor  in  dangerous  fashion.  If  he  only 
knew  that  I  am  here  spying  on  him,  after 
he,  poor  man,  out  of  sheer  vanity,  has  got 
up  at  an  unearthly  hour  that  I  should  not 
see  him  in  an  unshaven  condition.  Ugh! 
there  he's  cut  himself.  I  laughed  so  that 
I  shook  the  bed.  He  turned,  and,  like  a 
gutter-snipe,  put  out  his  tongue,  and  said : 
'Yes,  you  just  wait  till  I  have  finished, 
and  I  will  give  you  something  to  laugh  at, 
you  naughty  girl.' 

Shortly  after  he  came  to  the  bed,  pulled 
my  nose,  threatened  me  with  a  wet  sponge, 


JULIE'S  DIARY  217 

and  was  quite  beside  himself  with  merri- 
ment, with  smooth,  though  not  un- 
wounded  cheeks. 

The  second  day  of  our  journey  had  be- 
gun. Alas!  too  soon  it  ended. 

How  did  we  spend  it?  As  the  royal 
children  we  were,  playing  together  in  our 
kingdom,  which,  because  it  was  ours, 
seemed  the  most  beautiful  in  the  world. 
We  ate  the  food,  drank  the  wine,  which 
seemed  better  and  more  delicious  than  all 
other  earthly  food  and  wine,  and  we  were 
so  in  love  with  each  other,  that  we  thought 
our  earlier  life  counted  for  nothing.  It 
happened  to-day,  and  yet  it  is  already 
wrapt  in  the  faint  radiance  of  old  memory. 
I  remember  our  sitting  down  near  the  lake 
having  breakfast — new-laid  eggs,  fresh 
sourish  peasant  cheese  and  milk  with  thick 
cream.  I  remember  our  standing  with 
the  old  woman  in  the  yard,  feeding  the 
chickens  and  hens,  and  the  gallant  self- 
consciously modest  rooster.  I  remember 
our  sauntering  through  the  wood,  and  my 


218  JULIE'S  DIARY 

fear  at  seeing  in  a  tree  an  owl,  which,  like 
an  old  witch,  glared  at  me  with  her  day- 
blind  eyes. 

I  remember  at  last  our  parting  from 
fairy-tale  land,  when  the  carriage  drove 
away  from  the  verandah,  and  the  old 
woman  handed  me  the  sweet  flowers  and 
said:  'God's  peace  and  farewell,  little 
lady,  and  come  again  soon.' 

Then  we  drove  back  to  reality  and  to 
the  big  town,  where  there  are  parents,  and 
sin,  and  sorrow,  and  evil  consciences. 

When  the  first  tall  houses  came  in  sight 
a  horrible  fear  clutched  my  heart,  and 
when  we  met  a  removing  van  I  thought  of 
the  summer  holidays,  which  very  soon 
would  part  him  and  me. 

But  when  he  saw  that  I  was  sad,  he 
asked:  'Is  anything  worrying  you?' 
Then  I  smiled,  put  both  my  arms  round 
his  neck,  looked  into  his  eyes  and  said: 
'Let  me  tell  you  to-day  how  much  sadder 
it  is  for  me  to  part  from  you  than  ever  be- 
fore; let  me  tell  you  now  that  perhaps 


JULIE'S  DIARY  219 

there  will  be  much  I  may  have  to  regret 
in  my  life,  but  never — do  you  hear — never 
shall  I  regret  that  I  have  been  yours.' 


21st  OF  MAY. 

WHEN  I  woke  up  this  morning  I 
seemed  still  to  have  my  ears  full 
of  the  ringing  of  bells,  and  in  vain  I  tried 
to  remember  what  I  had  been  dreaming. 

The  dream  itself  had  quite  disappeared 
from  my  mind,  only  leaving  behind  this 
sound  of  merry  bells,  which  pursued  me 
all  day  long  in  a  curious,  irritating  way. 
Like  a  teasing  play  of  hobgoblins  they 
intermingled  with  all  my  thoughts. 

Then,  during  the  afternoon,  as  I  sat 
dreaming  of  my  journey  to  fairyland, 
dreaming  all  over  again  that  I  was  driv- 
ing with  him  to  the  old  peasant  woman's 
cottage,  the  bells  started  again  their  gay 
ringing;  they  sounded  in  time  with  the 
clattering  of  horses'  hoofs,  and  lo  and  be- 
hold, suddenly  the  picture  in  my  fancy 


220  JULIE'S  DIARY 

changed,  the  landscape  turned  white  and 
wintry,  the  carriage  became  a  sleigh,  and 
in  the  sleigh  sat  he  and  I  with  heavy  fur- 
coats  over  our  wedding  garments,  hurry- 
ing from  the  big  dinner-party  out  to  the 
isolated  country  inn,  where  we  were  to 
celebrate  our  wedding-feast,  he  and  I 
alone. 

But  from  the  wintry  sky  I  seemed  to 
see  grandmama's  beautiful  eyes  look  down 
to  me,  so  gently  and  smilingly,  while  the 
bells  ring  through  the  air,  'Now  is  your 
time,  now  is  your  time.' 


22nd  OF  MAY. 

TO-DAY   fortnight  he  leaves  town. 
He  is  going  to  Vedbaek  to  stay  with 
a  friend. 

Of  course  it  is  quite  natural;  he  needs 
the  peace  of  the  country,  and  not  for  a 
moment  could  I  imagine  that  he  should 
stay  in  town  for  my  sake.  He  knows 
that  quite  well,  and  has  therefore  not 


JULIE'S  DIARY  221 

thought  it  necessary  to  give  me  any  ex- 
planation on  this  subject.  Yet  I  should 
have  been  happier  if  he  had  talked  it  over 
with  me,  giving  me  the  occasion  to  tell 
him  that  the  very  thing  I  like  him  to  do  is 
to  get  quite  well  and  strong  in  the  country. 


26th  OF  MAY. 

T  \  TEt  have  walked  through  the  streets 
V  V  for  the  first  time  together.  I  had 
said  to  him  that  to-night  I  was  going  to 
have  a  look  at  the  festive  decorations  in 
his  company.  He  frowned  a  little,  and 
asked  if  it  was  wise.  I  answered  him  I 
did  not  care  in  the  least.  I  insisted  on 
seeing  all  the  fun  with  him,  even  if  it 
should  appear  in  the  papers  afterwards. 
But  I  really  don't  think  a  human  soul 
noticed  us.  There  was  such  a  crush,  and 
such  a  feeling  of  jolly  good  fellowship 
reigned  that  the  usual  mean  criticism  was 
forgotten.  Besides  it  would  have  been 
useless  to  demand  introduction  and  visit- 


222  JULIE'S  DIARY 

ing-cards  from  all  the  arms  and  legs  with 
which  one  came  in  contact  during  the  even- 
ing. To  begin  with,  he  was  not  very 
bright,  and  every  time  he  recognised  a 
familiar  face  he  tried  to  disappear  with  me 
down  streets  which  were  not  illuminated. 
But  gradually  also  he  was  seized  by  the 
general  feeling  of  belonging  to  one  huge 
Noah's  ark,  and  quite  recklessly  we  fin- 
ished up  arm-in-arm  watching  the  fire- 
works at  Tivoli's. 


30th  OF  MAY. 

fTlHERE  have  been  days  in  which  he 
JL  seems  rather  tired  and  depressed. 
When  I  have  said  to  him,  that  I  thought 
he  was  tired  of  seeing  so  much  of  me,  he 
has  always  answered  that  it  was  silly  non- 
sense. He  admitted  there  were  days, 
when  he  felt  nervous,  without  courage  and 
without  spirit,  and  that  it  was  impolite  (a 
word  I  simply  hate)  of  him  to  let  me  feel 
it,  but  that  my  visits  were  only  an  encour- 


JULIE'S  DIARY  223 

agement  and  a  pleasure  to  him.  I  must 
not  be  angry  because  he  was  not  always 
able  to  control  his  bad  moods,  which  were 
partly  due  to  his  unamiable  character, 
partly  to  worries,  in  which  I  had  no  part. 

I  implored  him  to  be  more  frank  with 
me.  I  would  only  be  too  happy  to  share 
his  sorrows,  and  surely  he  ought  to  know 
that  there  was  not  a  thing  in  the  world,  I 
would  not  do  if  in  any  way  I  could  help 
him. 

But  when  I  say  such  things,  he  takes  me 
on  his  knee,  pets  me,  and  says  that  I  really 
must  not  take  his  sulkiness  so  seriously. 
It  does  not  mean  anything  after  all,  and 
it  would  be  better  for  me  to  pretend  not  to 
notice  it. 

But  now  I  know  what  worries  him;  it 
is  money. 

Yesterday,  as  well  as  to-day,  I  felt  that 
he  was  very  depressed  and  anxious. 
When  I  came  yesterday,  he  said:  'Don't 
be  angry  if  I  ask  you  not  to  stay  very 
long,  but  I  am  expecting  a  man  with 


224  JULIE'S  DIARY 

whom  I  must  have  a  business  talk.'  Now 
knowing  how  much  it  meant,  I  fear  I  was 
rather  unreasonable.  It  had  never  hap- 
pened before  that  he  asked  me  to  leave;  I 
thought  it  horrid  of  him,  and  felt  vague 
fears  creeping  over  me. 

I  had  not  recovered  when  I  came  to- 
day and  grew  still  more  unhappy,  when 
I  found  that  he  was  still  in  the  same  bad 
humour. 

We  had  an  extremely  agreeable  half 
hour,  in  which  the  storm  gathered  about 
us,  his  face  grew  more  and  more  stiff,  and 
I  more  and  more  ready  for  tears. 

At  last  the  storm  burst,  when  after  a 
lengthy  pause  he  said  in  his  coldest  voice : 
'I  must  say,  this  promises  to  be  very 

jolly-' 

The  same  moment  he  had  said  it,  I  burst 
into  sobs,  and  he  was  by  my  side,  begging 
my  forgiveness  in  the  most  tender  words. 
'Yes,  but  why  are  you  so  horrid  to  me, 
what  have  I  done  to  you?  Are  you  tired 
of  me?' 


JULIE'S  DIARY  225 

'No  Julie,  indeed  I  am  not  tired  of  you, 
but  I  am  so  worried.' 

'And  you  won't  tell  me  the  reason? 
Why  mayn't  I  know  what  worries  you, 
since  I  am  not  the  cause.' 

Then  he  told  me  everything.  Before 
he  left  town,  he  had  to  pay  a  large  sum 
of  money,  which  he  owed,  and  he  did  not 
know  how  to  get  it.  When  in  an  aston- 
ished voice  I  said,  that  I  thought  he  was 
rich,  he  answered  that  everybody  thought 
so,  but  that  it  was  a  great  mistake.  He 
certainly  had  a  little  money,  but  it  was  in- 
vested in  such  a  way,  that  he  could  not 
touch  the  capital,  and  during  the  last  years 
he  had  lived  rather  extravagantly. 

'But  if  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  get  the 
money,  what  then?' 

'Well,  darling,  then  it  is  pretty  bad, 
but  don't  you  worry.  I  shall  get  the 
money  somehow.  Only  it  is  very  dis- 
agreeable while  it  lasts.' 

We  were  now  sitting  together  on  the 
sofa,  talking  the  matter  over  in  a  wise 


226  JULIE'S  DIARY 

way,  and  I  was  soon  quite  happy  again. 
It  seemed  to  me  he  was  nearer  to  me  than 
ever  before,  now  that  he  had  confided  to 
me  all  these  intimate  worries. 

But  when  I  said  to  him:  'You  will  do 
me  a  great  service,  if  for  the  future  you 
will  stop  spending  so  much  for  my  sake, 
I  don't  care  either  for  presents  or  for  fine 
dinners,'  he  kissed  me  and  said  smilingly: 
'It  is  very  dear  of  you  to  say  that,  but  you 
must  not  think  for  a  moment  that  you 
have  ruined  me.  No,  dear  child,  the  little 
you  and  I  have  spent  would  neither  make 
nor  mar  my  fortune.' 

Shortly  after,  when  he  offered  me  a 
glass  of  wine,  he  added,  'if  you  think  I 
can  allow  myself  so  mad  an  extravagance.' 


4th  OF  JUNE. 

I  HAVE  seen  very  little  of  him  dur- 
ing the  last  few  days.     He  has  been 
busy  with  his  affairs,  and  besides  had  to 
pay  a  great  many  calls. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  227 

I  have  been  patient  and  tried  to  take 
my  fate  calmly.  Even  when  yesterday  I 
went  to  him  in  vain  and  instead  of  him- 
self only  found  a  few  excusing  words,  I 
took  it  bravely. 

But  when  I  realise  that  very  soon  I  shall 
see  him  only  at  rare  intervals,  then  I  dare 
not  think  further  ahead,  I  simply  bend 
my  head,  close  my  eyes,  and  know  that 
everything  is  hopeless. 

He  has  not  mentioned  his  money  affairs 
again.  I  asked  him  the  other  day  how  he 
was  getting  on,  but  he  passed  it  lightly 
over,  saying  that  it  was  sure  to  be  all  right. 


30th  OF  JUNE. 

HE  is  gone. 
I  was  with  him  during  the  last 
hours ;  I  lunched  with  him  and  helped  him 
to  pack.  On  my  way  to  him,  I  gave  my- 
self the  following  little  lecture:  'Now 
be  good,  show  him  a  bright  and  gay  face, 


228  JULIE'S  DIARY 

so  that  he  can  take  with  him  a  charming 
memory  of  you,  and  above  all  he  must 
not,  at  any  price,  get  the  impression  that 
you  had  expected  him  to  stay  in  town  for 
your  sake.' 

I  found  him  busily  occupied  and  in  high 
spirits.  He  chatted  incessantly  while  he 
wrote  letters,  and  flew  from  room  to  room 
collecting  things  he  suddenly  remembered 
he  wanted  to  take  with  him. 

He  was  quite  changed.  There  was  a 
curious  feverish  restlessness  about  him, 
and  every  moment  he  looked  at  his  watch 
as  if  he  feared  he  would  be  too  late. 

We  hurried  through  lunch.  I  had  no 
appetite.  He  took  some  few  mouthfuls, 
drank  three  or  four  glasses  of  madeira, 
one  after  another,  and  said:  'Now  we 
must  pack.' 

In  the  bedroom  everything  was  upside 
down.  On  the  bed  and  on  the  chairs  lay 
clothes,  boots,  cigar-boxes,  books,  shirts, 
and  ties.  On  the  floor  stood  his  trunks; 
the  drawers  were  all  pulled  out  in  the 


JULIE'S  DIARY  229 

dressing-table,  and  the  wardrobe-doors 
stood  wide  open. 

I  started  packing.  Then  he  remem- 
bered that  he  had  forgotten  to  buy  writing 
paper,  asked  me  to  excuse  him  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  went  out. 

I  stood  in  the  room,  where  every  corner 
spoke  of  preparation  for  travel,  and  a 
desolate  sense  of  misery  crept  over  me. 
Mechanically  I  took  the  clothes,  I  folded 
them  piece  by  piece,  and  laid  them  in  the 
big  trunk.  I  bent  down,  I  stood  up,  down 
and  up,  down  and  up,  piece  after  piece  I 
packed,  now  this,  now  that,  in  a  short  time 
it  would  all  be  over  and  I  should  be  alone, 
alone. 

I  stood  up  terrified.  No,  no,  I  will  not, 
I  dare  not  be  alone.  He  must  not  leave, 
I  will  beg  and  pray  him  to  stay,  and  I 
am  sure  he  will  do  as  I  ask.  He  won't 
have  the  heart  to  leave  me.  It  would  be 
cruel  of  him,  and  he  has  no  right  to  treat 
me  like  that. 

Then  I  heard  the  door  bang;  he  came 


230  JULIE'S  DIARY 

singing  into  the  sitting-room,  and  when  he 
came  in  to  me,  I  was  again  busily  packing. 

'How  clever  you  are,'  he  said,  and 
stroked  my  hair.  'Never  before  have  I 
had  such  a  beautifully  packed  trunk.' 

He  stood  close  to  me,  handing  me  the 
things,  nodding  and  smiling  to  me. 

Suddenly  I  said :  'If  I  were  to  beg  you 
to  stay,  would  you  give  up  this  journey?' 

He  looked  at  me  in  amazement,  thought 
for  a  moment,  and  said:  'Do  you  mean 
it?' 

'Well,  if  I  did  mean  it?' 

Another  inquiring  glance,  another  re- 
flection and  then:  'I  should  stay — of 
course.' 

I  had  got  the  answer  I  wanted.  Yet  it 
did  not  make  me  happy.  We  stood  look- 
ing at  each  other,  then  he  came  up  to  me, 
put  his  arm  round  my  waist  and  said,  in 
the  most  gentle  and  tender  way,  that  he 
would  stay  with  the  greatest  pleasure, 
and  that  it  would  not  be  the  slightest  sac- 
rifice on  his  part  to  give  up  this  trip. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  231 

After  which  I  of  course  said,  I  had  only 
meant  it  in  fun. 

The  packing  was  not  finished  until  the 
last  moment.  The  cab  was  already  wait- 
ing. He  was  anxious  not  to  be  late,  and 
we  said  a  hurried  good-bye  to  each  other. 
I  stood  hidden  behind  the  curtain,  peep- 
ing down  into  the  street.  He  caught 
sight  of  me,  waved  his  hand  and  swung  his 
hat.  He  looked  so  handsome  and  so  ra- 
diant, just  as  if  he  was  starting  out  to 
meet  victory  and  happiness. 

The  cab  turned  the  corner,  and  I  let  the 
curtain  fall.  I  walked  through  the  rooms, 
could  not  tear  myself  away  from  them. 
I  sat  down  on  the  couch,  where  I  usually 
sat  with  him.  On  the  table  in  front  of 
me  lay  his  album.  I  opened  it  and  found 
in  it  a  picture  of  him  as  a  little  boy  of  six. 
I  took  it  out,  playing  with  it  like  a  little 
girl  plays  with  a  doll.  I  laid  in  on  my 
heart,  I  kissed  it,  and  called  it  tender 
names,  and  while  the  tears  were  running 
from  my  silly  eyes,  blotting  out  the  pic- 


232  JULIE'S  DIARY 

ture,  I  said,  that  now  we  two  had  to  keep 
close  together,  now  he  had  left  us. 

I  sat  there  until  the  maid  came  in,  and  in 
astonishment  said :  'Good  heavens,  miss, 
are  you  still  here?' 

I  was  also  astonished  at  her  sudden  en- 
trance. I  got  up  quickly  and  left,  but 
the  little  picture  I  put  in  my  pocket. 


7th  OF  JUNE. 

T I  iHIS  morning  I  went  to  the  post- 
J.     office    and    fetched    the    following 
post-restante  letter: — 

'VEDBAEK,   6th  OF  JUNE. 

'DEABEST  CHILD. — Do  you  know  that 
you  spoil  me,  and  that  I  have  not  in  the 
least  deserved  it.  When  on  my  arrival  I 
was  received  by  your  dear,  far  too  dear, 
letter,  it  made  me  both  happy  and 
ashamed.  I  am — and  this  is  no  phrase 
— quite  unable  to  return  your  goodness. 
I  am  especially  a  very  poor  letter-writer, 


JULIE'S  DIARY  233 

while  you,  like  so  many  women,  are  a  mas- 
ter in  the  art  of  sending  yourself  in  an 
envelope.  I  assure  you  that  when  I 
opened  your  letter,  it  was  exactly  as  if  my 
Julie  sprang  alive  out  into  the  room, 
threw  her  arms  round  my  neck  and  told 
me  a  lot  of  delightful  things. 

'I  promise  you  I  will  write  very  often, 
but  I  am  afraid  you  must  be  satisfied  with 
short  notes.  The  country  laziness  has  al- 
ready taken  hold  of  my  brain,  so  that  I 
have  to  drive  myself  to  make  and  spell  a 
correct  phrase.  The  only  thing  my  brain 
is  able  to  express  quickly  is  that  I  am  very 
much  in  love  with  you,  and  am  longing 
for  the  15th,  when  I  have  to  pay  a  visit 
to  town  on  business. 

'We  live  in  a  cottage,  hardly  as  tall  as 
we  are,  but  the  situation  is  perfect,  just 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  wood,  and  the  cot- 
tage owns  a  collection  of  pictures  of 
heavenly  and  earthly  celebrities,  which,  to- 
gether with  fresh  milk,  pigstye,  and  sea- 
weed perfume,  and  bedtime  at  ten  o'clock, 


234  JULIE'S  DIARY 

purifies  my  soul  to  a  state  of  open- 
mouthed  childishness.  Therefore,  with- 
out blushing,  I  finish  this  letter  in  the  true 
style  of  the  usual  love  epistle.  With  love 
and  a  thousand  kisses  to  my  beloved 
darling. — From  her  ever  devoted,  A.' 


9th  OF  JUNE. 

IT  has  happened  before  that  I  have  not 
seen  him  for  a  whole  week.  Why 
then  does  this  week's  parting  seem  so 
bitter? 

In  an  hour  and  a  half  I  can  get  to  him. 
If  to-day  I  write  that  I  cannot  bear  the 
parting  any  longer,  I  know  he  will  come 
to-morrow. 

Yet,  it  is  not  the  same. 

Before,  when  I  walked  through  the 
streets,  I  knew  that  I  might  meet  him  at 
any  moment.  I  read  his  name  on  the 
theatre  posters.  I  passed  his  window,  and 
every  step  I  took,  I  felt  him  near  me,  and 
could  imagine  him  sitting  within.  For 


JULIE'S  DIARY  235 

even  if  I  did  not  meet  him  I  knew  he  was 
in  the  very  air  I  breathed.  While  now,  I 
am  like  a  traveller  in  a  strange  town. 
Aimlessly  I  walk  about,  knowing  that  I 
shall  not  find  what  I  am  seeking.  I  find 
myself  standing  outside  the  theatre,  study- 
ing the  old  torn  posters,  and  in  whichever 
direction  I  start  I  always  end  by  finding 
myself  outside  his  house,  where  the  win- 
dows of  his  flat  are  blinded  like  on  the  day 
of  a  funeral. 

Every  day  has  two  bright  moments. 
When  I  fetch  his  letter  and  when  I  write 
mine.  I  am  happiest  when  I  write  to  him, 
for  his  letters  are  not  him,  they  are  only 
the  surface  of  him,  they  bear  the  stamp  of 
his  reserve,  his  dread  of  letting  himself  go, 
very  likely  also  what  he  himself  calls 
'country -laziness.' 

But  when  I — after  the  others  have  gone 
to  bed — am  sitting  in  my  little  room,  fill- 
ing sheet  after  sheet  to  him,  then  I  can 
feel  him  so  near  that  it  is  as  if  I  lay  in  his 
arms  talking  to  him.  The  air  round  me  is 


236  JULIE'S  DIARY 

warm  with  his  presence.  While  I  sit  with 
bent  head  I  feel  his  kiss  on  my  neck,  and 
my  pen  dances  along,  keeping  time  with 
my  heart's  quick  beat. 


14th  OF  JUNE. 

A  FEW  days  ago  I  went  to  his  flat, 
and  I  have  since  been  there  every 
day.  I  have  both  laughed  and  cried  at 
myself,  but  I  felt  I  had  to  go.  When  I 
am  in  his  room  I  imagine  that  he  has  just 
left  me,  that  he  has  gone  out  on  some 
errand  and  will  be  back  very  soon. 

I  spend  about  an  hour  there  every  day, 
going  on  with  my  work,  embroidering  his 
linen,  and  chatting  to  the  maid. 

To-day  we  have  been  busy  preparing  a 
festive  reception  for  him.  We  have 
dusted  and  polished;  and  everything  is 
spick  and  span.  We  have  put  fresh 
flowers  and  foliage  in  all  the  vases,  and  I 
have  decided  what  he  is  to  have  for  lunch. 

The  last  thing  I  did  before  I  left  the 


JULIE'S  DIARY  237 

place  was  to  write  him  a  welcoming  note, 
which  he  will  find  on  his  writing-table. 

Therefore,  come  to  me,  beloved,  the 
bridal  house  is  garnished,  and  your  bride 
awaits  you.  Your  bride  who  has  no  other 
wish  in  her  heart  than  to  be  yours,  and  to 
do  your  bidding. 


15th  OF  JUNE. 

I  THINK  he  was  really  happy  to  see 
me  again,  he  was  so  dear  to  me. 

But  there  is  one  thing  I  don't  under- 
stand. Why  should  he  for  a  moment 
seem  out  of  tune  when  I  showed  him  how 
busy  I  had  been  with  the  table  linen? 

I  asked  him  if  he  did  not  like  my  coming 
to  the  flat  when  he  was  away,  and  he 
answered:  'No,  it  isn't  that,  but — well, 
dear,  you  really  are  too  good  to  me,  and  I 
don't  deserve  it  at  all.' 

Which,  of  course,  I  think  is  quite  silly, 
for  he  ought  to  know  that  I  have  no 
greater  pleasure  than  to  work  for  him. 


238  JULIE'S  DIARY 

It  seems  to  me  so  absolutely  natural. 
Then  why  should  he  say,  'You  are  too 
good  for  me,'  as  if  goodness  has  anything 
to  do  with  it?  When  I  had  explained 
this,  he  drew  me  close  to  him  and  said,  half 
smilingly,  half  seriously,  'Would  it  be 
possible  for  you  to  love  me  a  little  less?' 
'What  a  curious  thing  for  a  lover  to  ask,' 
I  answered. 

'It  is  sheer  modesty  all  the  same,'  he 
continued.  'I  think  you  give  me  so  much, 
and  I  give  you  so  very  little.' 

'You  are  (kiss)  a  silly  billy.  You  are 
(kiss)  grumpy  and  spoiled,  sometimes 
even  a  tease  and  a  pig.  Yet,  you  are 
(kiss)  the  most  wonderful  person  in  the 
world,  and  (kiss,  kiss,  kiss)  I  love  you 
with  all  my  heart.'  After  which  he  for- 
got his  objections  to  my  too  great  love. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  239 

7th  OF  JULY. 

I  NEGLECT  my  diary  for  my  corres- 
pondence. To  him,  I  have  a  thou- 
sand things  to  write,  while  there  is  noth- 
ing particularly  interesting  to  put  into  my 
diary.  Like  the  mile-stones  on  a  country 
road  the  days  glide  uniformly  by.  Only 
the  Saturdays  stand  out  from  the  dulness. 
The  Saturdays  are  like  cosy  inns  on  my 
long  summer  road,  for  every  Saturday  he 
comes  to  town  to  meet  me. 

Thus  week  after  week  I  trot  along  the 
same  monotonous  road.  Sunday  is  still 
radiant  from  Saturday's  sun,  but  Monday 
and  Tuesday  are  marked  by  the  signs  of 
hopelessness.  At  Wednesday's  milestone 
the  light  of  expectancy  is  shimmering 
ahead;  in  growing  hope  and  longing  I 
pass  Thursday  and  Friday,  until  Satur- 
day's happiness  shines  through  the  night's 
dreams  and  I  wake  with  joy  in  my  heart. 

But  when  on  his  staircase,  a  fear  takes 
hold  of  me.  How  will  he  receive  me? 
Will  his  face  be  bright  with  welcome,  or 


240  JULIE'S  DIARY 

will  it  have  the  expression  of  effort  and 
fatigue  which  now  and  again  I  seem  to 
have  noticed,  which  perhaps  is  only  my 
imagination,  but  which,  when  I  am  alone, 
sometimes  stands  out  in  my  memory  and 
fills  my  soul  with  black,  foreboding  clouds. 

The  fear  cripples  my  joy  and  prevents 
me  from  being  as  nice  and  bright  as  I 
should  like  to.  Then  he  often  misunder- 
stands me;  I  see  the  nervous  glint  in  his 
eye,  and  I  am  sure  he  thinks  me  irritating 
and  capricious. 

But  he  says  nothing.  He  drinks 
quickly  a  lot  of  wine,  and  persuades  me 
to  drink  too. 

Of  course  wine  helps.  A  cosy  well- 
being  creeps  over  mind  and  body.  All 
dark  and  gloomy  thoughts  disappear  like 
mist  before  the  sun ;  the  silly  fear  vanishes, 
it  sets  the  tongue  moving,  one  feels  nearer 
to  each  other,  and  when  one  sits  hand  in 
hand  looking  into  each  other's  eyes,  there 
is  no  longer  any  nervous  tension,  no  mis- 


JULIE'S  DIARY  241 

take,  and  no  suspicion,  and  one  forgets  the 
six  other  days  of  the  week  for  this  blessed 
happiness  of  the  seventh. 

Afterwards  I  cross-examine  him.  He 
must  give  me  a  detailed  description  of 
everything  and  everybody  during  the  past 
days.  In  the  beginning  he  assures  me 
there  was  nothing  to  tell.  His  days  were 
taken  up  with  bathing,  lazing,  smoking, 
eating,  and  sleeping.  But  gradually  I 
have  extorted  from  him  the  fact  that,  on 
the  whole,  he  leads  quite  a  gay  life.  At 
the  hotel  where  he  dines  he  has  made  many 
friends,  he  plays  croquet  and  tennis  with 
young  girls,  and  is  invited  to  picnic  and 
dinner  parties. 

He  seems  especially  to  cultivate  the  so- 
ciety of  a  widow  and  her  two  daughters. 

When  first  he  mentioned  these  young 
girls,  it  was  with  a  certain  restraint.  He 
tried  to  give  it  the  appearance  that,  with 
the  best  will  in  the  world,  he  could  not 
escape  them.  They  worried  his  life  out 


242  JULIE'S  DIARY 

of  him  with  invitations  and  with  asking 
him  to  take  part  in  all  sorts  of  country 
amusements. 

I  was  silly  enough  to  show  that  I  was 
jealous.  This  evidently  amused  him,  and 
now  he  is  always  trying  to  put  these  dam- 
sels and  their  wonderful  doings  in  front  of 
my  nose.  I  know  of  course  it  is  only  a 
joke,  but  it  makes  me  miserable  all  the 
same,  though  I  am  too  ashamed  to  admit 
it. 

On  the  contrary  I  often  ask  him  about 
his  two  little  friends.  At  last  he  revenged 
himself  in  a  way  I  did  not  at  all  like.  He 
started  talking  about  Erik,  and  insisted 
that  he  had  all  the  time  been  jealous  of 
him. 

Poor  Erik!  I  grow  sad  every  time  I 
think  of  him.  I  am  sure  he  was  very  fond 
of  me,  or  he  would  not  have  behaved  in 
such  a  fine  manly  way  when  I  told  him  I 
could  not  be  his  wife. 

Now  he  is  in  Berlin,  and  I  never  hear 
from  him  directly.  But  he  writes  now 


JULIE'S  DIARY  243 

and  again  to  mother,  and  I  believe  she  has 
answered  his  letters. 

The  other  day  when  he  again  alluded  to 
Erik,  I  told  him — not  wishing  to  have  this 
subject  mentioned  again — how  it  had 
ended  between  Erik  and  me.  I  told  him 
that  Erik  had  asked  me  to  be  his  wife  and 
that  I  had  refused.  'Why,  I  need  hardly 
tell  you,'  I  added. 

He  looked  at  me  rather  ashamed,  but 
only  said:  'Then,  please,  forgive  me.' 

But  for  a  long  time  after  we  were  both 
very  serious. 


13th  or  JULY. 

I  KNOW  it  was  an  absurdly  mad  im- 
pulse, and  I  was  certainly  severely 
punished  for  it. 

The  weather  was  perfectly  lovely  this 
morning,  I  was  longing  so  much  to  see 
him,  and  I  thought  it  would  be  amusing 
to  pay  him  a  little  surprise  visit. 

I  got  hold  of  Christiane  and  we  went 


244  JULIE'S  DIARY 

off  by  the  morning  boat.  We  landed  at 
Skodsborg,  and  Christiane  stayed  there 
while  I  walked  along  the  highroad  to  Ved- 
baek. 

I  passed  the  village  where  he  lives,  but 
on  account  of  his  friend  I  dared  not  go  in. 
I  sent  a  message  by  a  boy  I  met,  saying 
that  a  lady  who  wished  to  speak  to  him  was 
waiting  for  him  at  the  entrance  to  the 
wood. 

I  waited  about  half  an  hour.  At  last 
I  saw  him  coming  quickly  along  the  road. 
I  stood  amongst  the  trees,  holding  the  sun- 
shade so  that  he  should  not  at  once  recog- 
nise me.  Not  until  I  heard  his  step  close 
by  did  I  come  forward,  letting  the  sun- 
shade fall. 

'Is  it  you?'  he  exclaimed,  and  at  the 
same  moment  I  understood  what  a  stupid 
thing  I  had  done. 

'Who  else  should  it  be?' 

'No;  of  course  not.  I  only  thought 
that  perhaps  it  was  a  joke  the  others  were 
playing  on  me.  Forgive  me  for  being  so 


JULIE'S  DIARY  245 

long  in  coming  to  you.  I  was  at  the 
hotel  playing  croquet.  How  nice  it  is 
to  see  you.  Are  you  here  with  your  pa- 
rents?' 

'I  am  alone.  I  simply  came  out  to  see 
you.' 

'To  see  me!  but  it  is  impossible  for  us 
to  be  seen  together.' 

'I  thought  we  might  have  gone  for  a 
long  walk.' 

For  a  moment  we  stood  looking  at  each 
other.  Then  he  said:  'I  think  I'd  better 
tell  you  straight  out  how  it  is :  I  hope  you 
won't  be  angry  with  me;  you  know  how 
disappointed  I  am  that  I  cannot  spend 
the  afternoon  with  you.  But  a  number 
of  the  people  here  have  arranged  a  big 
picnic  in  which  I  have  absolutely  promised 
to  take  part.  You  see,  I  could  not 
possibly — ' 

'No ;  of  course  not,'  I  interrupted,  'how 
could  you  imagine  I  should  come  here  and 
upset  your  plans.'  His  face  got  that 
nervous  look  I  dread. 


246  JULIE'S  DIARY 

'I  think  you  are  a  little  unreasonable,' 
he  said. 

'Perhaps.  Then  please  excuse  that  also 
as  well  as  my  coming;  I  shall  go  at  once. 
Good-bye,  I  hope  you  will  have  a  jolly 
time.' 

'But  you  need  not  go  at  once.  We  are 
not  starting  for  an  hour.' 

'I  think  it  is  better.  Besides  what  could 
we  do  in  such  a  short  time,  and  it  would  be 
a  pity  for  you  to  be  compromised  by  be- 
ing seen  with  me.' 

He  held  my  hand  for  a  long  time  and 
shook  his  head  seriously  at  me.  'You  are 
most  unjust  to  me,'  he  said  at  last.  'Do 
you  really  believe  that  it  is  for  my  own 
sake  that  I  am  afraid  of  our  being  seen 
together?' 

'No;  of  course  not.  It  is  only  natural 
you  should  take  care  of  my  reputation; 
you  have  always  guarded  it  so  well.' 

He  did  not  answer,  but  dropped  my 
hand,  murmured  a  good-bye,  and  went 
without  looking  back, 


JULIE'S  DIARY  247 

I  could  have  killed  him!  But  as  I 
watched  him  slowly  disappear  without 
once  looking  back,  I  had  to  use  all  my 
strength  not  to  call  out  to  him.  When  he 
had  quite  disappeared,  I  sank  down  in 
despair.  I  lay  huddled  up  sobbing 
amongst  the  trees,  imploring  his  forgive- 
ness, and  saying  that  he  could  beat  me  and 
illtreat  me  as  much  as  he  liked  if  he  would 
only  not  go  and  leave  me  alone. 

But  when  again  I  went  down  to  the 
high-road  I  saw  two  large  waggonettes 
driving  towards  me,  and  thought  I  saw 
him  in  front  on  one  of  them,  sitting  be- 
tween two  young  girls,  I  hurried  back  into 
the  wood  so  that  he  should  not  see  me. 


16th  OF  JULY. 

ALL   sorrow  has   vanished   and   joy 
reigns   once   more.     We   have   ex- 
plained ourselves,  and  defended  ourselves. 
We  have  sealed  eternal  peace  by  kisses 
which   were    neither   brother   and    sister 


248  JULIE'S  DIARY 

kisses  nor  Judas's  kisses,  but  real  original 
kisses  for  which  Adam  and  Eve  took  out 
a  patent  in  the  Garden  of  Eden. 

Amongst  all  our  festive  days  it  was  one 
of  the  most  beautiful.  The  dark  back- 
ground and  the  serious  beginning  gave  it 
a  curious  charm  all  its  own.  We  both  had 
a  longing  to  make  up  for  past  misery  by 
being  specially  good  to  each  other.  He 
was  just  like  that  first  day  I  went  to  him. 
Just  as  chivalrous  and  dear,  as  guarded 
and  watchful  in  doing  everything  to 
please  me,  wrapping  me  in  an  atmosphere 
of  tenderness  and  affection. 

Besides  the  day  had  a  gentle,  half  sad 
feeling — a  sunset  feeling — because  it  was 
our  last  meeting  before  my  departure  for 
Soro,  where  mother  and  I  were  going  for 
three  weeks. 

It  is  hard  to  part  from  him.  If  things 
had  not  happened  as  they  did  to-day  no 
human  power  should  have  driven  me  away 
from  him.  Now  I  dare  leave.  The 
memories  of  this  day  will  shine  on  my  lone- 


JULIE'S  DIARY  249 

liness.     I    know    that    his    love    is    not 
changed. 

I  am  now  able  to  laugh  over  my  unsuc- 
cessful trip  to  Vedbaek.  Ye  gods !  what  a 
martyr  I  made  of  myself!  Not  the  least 
because  I  had  no  money  and  had  to  walk 
about  hungry  while  he,  of  course,  feasted 
off  the  best. 


SORO,  20th  OF  JULY. 
VERY  place  here  recalls  to  me  mem- 
J-J  ories  from  my  childhood.  For  it 
was  here  that  Erik  and  I  in  the  holidays 
strolled  about  together,  rowed  on  the  lake, 
and  chased  the  birds  in  the  woods. 

It  is  still  there,  the  old  oak-tree,  which 
filled  my  imagination  with  dark  terror,  at 
the  same  time  fascinating  me.  The  old, 
curiously  deformed  tree,  whose  branches 
stretched  themselves  like  gigantic  palsied 
limbs,  and  which  gave  shelter  to  legions  of 
the  greedy  proletariat  of  the  air,  the  poor, 


250  JULIE'S  DIARY 

always  discontented,  always  shrieking 
rooks. 

It  was  under  this  tree  that  Erik  per- 
formed that  deed  which  aroused  my  fear 
as  well  as  my  admiration. 

It  happened  that  one  day  we  found  the 
entire  army  of  rooks  wild  with  fury.  The 
birds  formed  like  a  thick,  black  cloud 
which  moved  backwards  and  forwards 
above  the  tree,  piercing  the  air  with  coarse 
and  hateful  shrieks.  Terrified,  I  clung  to 
Erik's  arm  and  asked  him  what  was  the 
matter.  He  pointed  upwards  and  said, 
'Look  there,  do  you  see  the  owl,  they  want 
to  kill  it.' 

I  discovered  the  heavy  fluffy  bird  which 
in  blind  fear — now  and  again  uttering  a 
despairing  battle-cry — flew  about  among 
its  deadly  enemies.  Already  it  showed 
signs  of  having  been  attacked,  as  some  of 
its  feathers  dropped  through  the  air. 

I  implored  Erik  to  save  it. 

He  bent  down,  picked  a  sharp  flint  from 
the  ground,  and  flung  it.  The  owl 


JULIE'S  DIARY  251 

flapped  his  wings  a  few  times,  then  fold- 
ing them  fell  heavily  to  the  ground  only  a 
few  yards  from  us.  For  a  moment  the 
rooks  became  silent.  Then  they  started 
again,  first  singly,  as  though  they  were 
asking  astonished  questions,  then  in 
threatening,  furious  chorus  directed  to  us. 
And  when  Erik  lifted  the  dead  owl  up  and 
we  went  away  with  it,  the  entire  army  of 
angry  rooks  whose  prey  we  had  seized  fol- 
lowed us  with  their  hoarse,  revengeful 
shrieks.  By  throwing  stones,  clapping 
our  hands  and  shouting,  we  sometimes  suc- 
ceeded in  stopping  them  for  a  while.  But 
soon  after,  they  commenced  again  with  re- 
newed strength;  they  flew  nearer  and 
nearer,  lower  and  lower,  and  at  last  I  was 
so  beside  myself  with  terror  that  I  ran 
along  as  fast  as  my  legs  could  carry  me, 
and  Erik,  who  became  infected  with  my 
fear,  followed  me. 

But  ever  since  then  my  heart  always 
beats  when  I  come  near  the  old  rook  tree. 

Even  yesterday,  when  I  stood  under  its 


252  JULIE'S  DIARY 

branches,  I  fancied  I  heard  threats  of  re- 
venge in  the  birds'  noisy  voices,  and  I 
wished  Erik  had  been  at  my  side  to  protect 
me. 


26th  OF  JULY. 

HE  is  always  asking  me  to  forgive  him 
because  his  letters  are  so  few  and 
far  between,  and  I  cannot  deny  that  now 
and  again  they  seem  rather  poor.  But  I 
try  to  understand  that  as  it  is  difficult  for 
him  to  express  his  feelings,  he  does  not 
make  a  good  letter-writer. 

Now  I  know  him  so  well  his  letters  may 
perhaps  cause  me  a  momentary  disap- 
pointment, but  they  never  make  me  really 
sad. 

I  comfort  myself  by  writing  twice  as 
long  and  twice  as  often  to  him.  I  write 
a  letter  twice  a  day  so  that  he  may  get  one 
with  each  post.  When  I  write  my  even- 
ing letter  I  know  he  is  reading  my  morn- 
ing letter,  and  when  I  am  busy  with  my 


JULIE'S  DIARY  253 

morning  letter  he  is  just  reading  the  one  I 
wrote  the  evening  before.  In  this  way  I 
build  a  bridge  between  him  and  me  which 
is  never  broken.  I  am  always  with  him. 
The  little  Vedbaek  ladies  shall  not  steal 
him  from  me.  I  am  near  him  morn  and 
eve,  watching  and  guarding. 

I  am  wise  and  say  to  myself:  'Let  him 
enjoy  his  holiday  and  all  the  innocent 
amusements  his  stay  in  the  country 
give  him!  What  does  it  really  matter 
even  if  he  should  have  some  little  summer 
flirtations?  When  all  comes  to  all  he  be- 
longs to  me.  He  has  told  me  so  and  I 
trust  him.  Trust  him  blindly,  and  will 
not  embitter  my  mind  with  any  low  sus- 
picion/ 

But  should  he  ever  be  tempted  too 
much,  I  am  there  with  my  letters,  calling 
him  back  to  the  path  of  virtue.  As  a 
faithful  sentinel  I  march  up  morning  and 
evening  to  guard  his  tent  against  all  base 
attacks. 


254  JULIE'S  DIARY 

31st  OF  JULY. 

HE  writes  that  he  has  got  orders  to 
start  rehearsals  on  the  8th  of 
August,  just  the  day  before  mother  and  I 
are  leaving  Soro.  I  have  now  got  an  ex- 
cellent idea.  I  will  ask  him  to  come  here 
on  the  7th,  and  spend  the  last  day  of  his 
holiday  with  me.  It  can  perfectly  well 
be  arranged.  Nobody  here  knows  him, 
and  we  could  meet  in  the  woods,  where  I 
often  spend  hours  alone.  I  know  several 
lovely  places  where  I  never  meet  a  soul. 
I  will  secretly  prepare  a  little  lunch 
basket,  buy  a  bottle  of  good  wine,  and  for 
once  in  a  whie  he  shall  be  my  guest. 

I  won't  give  up  this  dream — I  will  see  it 
realised — whatever  difficulties  turn  up,  I 
will  get  over  them. 


3rd  OF  AUGUST. 

OF    course    he    has    ever    so    many 
scruples.      He    writes:      T)o    you 
think  it  quite  wise?     It  would  certainly 


JULIE'S  DIARY  255 

be  great  fun,  but  after  all,  remember, 
dear,  that  we  will  very  soon  meet  in  Co- 
penhagen. Do  you  therefore  think  it  is 
worth  while  to  expose  yourself  to  the  dan- 
ger there  must  be  in  meeting  me  in  the 
roads  in  Soro  forest?'  He  mentions  a  lot 
of  'ifs,'  which  no  doubt  are  all  very  sen- 
sible, but  which  I  don't  care  a  fig  about. 

I  am  now  going  to  bombard  him  with  so 
many  letters  that  he  will  have  to  give  in, 
and  after  all  he  risks  nothing,  and  when 
I  wish  it,  then — why  not? 

No,  my  dear  and  wise  cavalier,  if  you 
even  put  on  your  most  serious  face,  I  will 
answer  you  like  the  recklessly-loving  girl 
I  am,  even  if  Soro  forest  was  full  of 
fathers,  mothers,  uncles,  aunts,  and  other 
wild  beasties,  I  will,  will,  will  meet  my 
love  there  next  Sunday. 


256  JULIE'S  DIARY 

5th  OF  AUGUST. 

VICTORY !  He  is  coming ! 
In  spite  of  serious  scruples,  he 
writes,  'as  you  please.'  You  can  have  as 
many  scruples  as  you  like  if  you  will  only 
come.  I  can  see  his  solemn  face  when  he 
wrote  this  letter  of  capitulation.  I  can 
see  him  shake  his  head  half  crossly,  half 
smiling  at  this  over- weakness :  'She  is  a 
terrible  girl,'  I  am  sure  he  has  said  to  him- 
self; 'she  is  so  gentle  and  so  angelic,  all 
the  same  she  twists  me  round  her  little 
finger.' 

But  don't  be  ashamed,  dear  one,  because 
for  once  in  a  way  you  are  giving  in  to  me. 
I  promise  you  I  will  repay  you  a  hundred- 
fold. 

'In  all  likelihood  I  shall  be  with  you,' 
he  says,  'but  I  beg  you  to  remember  that 
I  may  be  prevented.  I  am  not  saying  this 
because  I  can  think  of  anything  to  pre- 
vent me,  but  merely  because  I  know  from 
experience  that  you  are  always  badly  pre- 
pared for  a  disappointment.' 


JULIE'S  DIARY  257 

Thank  you,  my  most  wise  person.  I 
will  now  write  again,  and  won't  forget  to 
say  that  I  shall  consider,  for  instance,  an 
earthquake  sufficient  excuse  for  not  com- 
ing. 


7th  OF  AUGUST. 
Letter  placed  in  the  diary: — 

STEDBAEK,  6th  OF  AUGUST. 
*T  ET  me  start  this  letter,  which  will 
i  ^  cause  you  great  sorrow,  by  assur- 
ing you,  and  I  hope  you  will  believe  me, 
that  when  in  my  last  letter  I  wrote  about 
possible  hindrances  to  my  visit  to  Soro,  I 
did  not  know  that  I  was  going  to  write 
this  letter. 

'I  wish  you  would  believe,  even  if  you 
are  unable  to  understand,  that  this  is  some- 
thing which  has  come  without  clear  and 
conscious  reflection,  but  as  something  in- 
evitable, something  strong  and  forcible 
which  simply  could  not  be  otherwise. 


258  JULIE'S  DIARY 

Though  of  course  for  a  long  time  it  has 
been  smouldering  in  me,  and  has  slowly 
and  quietly  worked  its  way.  There  were 
moments  when  I  felt  it,  but  I  forced  my- 
self to  believe  that  it  meant  nothing. 
Then  again  there  were  other  moments 
when  I  confidently  said  to  myself  that  it 
had  only  been  foolish  imaginings,  a  pass- 
ing, meaningless  dissatisfaction — every- 
thing is  just  as  it  was  before. 

'Until  at  last  the  truth  sprang  forth  in 
my  soul  like  an  unquenchable  flame.  It 
is  over.  It  must  be  over. 

'Yes,  Julie,  the  very  hard  and  very  sad 
thing  I  have  to  tell  you  is  that  everything 
must  be  finished  between  you  and  me.  I 
cannot  and  will  not  lie  to  you.  I  tell  you 
just  as  it  is.  I  am  weary,  hopelessly 
weary,  I  can  no  more. 

'This  came  clearly  to  me  this  morning, 
when  I  had  your  last  letter.  I  was  still  in 
bed  when  it  was  brought  to  me.  I  ex- 
pected the  letter,  I  knew  it  would  come. 
Now,  listen  calmly  to  this,  and  don't 


JULIE'S  DIARY  259 

judge  me  at  once.  I  was  lying  wishing 
that  just  for  once  no  letter  would  arrive, 
and  I  simply  dreaded  to  see  my  landlady 
come  in  with  the  fat  letter  of  which  I 
knew  every  twist  and  turn  of  the  writing 
on  the  envelope,  and  alas!  even  before- 
hand seemed  to  know  the  contents.  The 
letter  lay  on  the  counterpane  like  a  night- 
mare, it  seemed  heavy  on  my  heart,  filling 
me  with  a  thousand  vague  fears.  A  grey 
oppression  seemed  to  paralyse  my  brain 
and  filled  my  soul  with  desperate  weari- 
ness. I  could  not  get  myself  to  open  the 
letter  and  read  it. 

'How  long  I  lay  like  this  I  don't  know. 
There  were  no  clear  thoughts  in  my  head, 
only  this  heavy,  grey  oppression  which 
made  me  so  tired  that  now  and  again  I 
fell  into  a  nervous  sleep. 

'At  last  I  forced  myself  with  a  wrench 
out  of  this  drowsy  state.  I  jumped  out 
of  bed,  drew  the  curtains  from  the  win- 
dow so  that  the  full  daylight  could  stream 
in.  Like  a  deliverance,  almost  like  a  hap- 


260  JULIE'S  DIARY 

piness,  the  clear  and  conscious  thought 
leapt  into  my  mind,  "It  is  over,  it  must 
be  over." 

'I  will  go  on  telling  you  the  truth.  I 
won't  garland  my  thoughts  and  feelings. 
It  was  happiness  I  felt  at  the  moment. 
I  felt  so  free  and  light-hearted.  Just  as 
if  I  was  born  again  with  new  strength 
and  new  hopes. 

'But  when  a  short  while  ago  I  sat  down 
to  write  this  letter  I  realised  that  the  hard- 
est task  was  still  undone. 

'For  the  point  is  that  I  have  nothing  at 
all  to  reproach  you  with.  On  the  con- 
trary, I  have  only  to  thank  you  again  and 
again  for  all  the  beauty  you  brought  me, 
and  for  all  your  sweet  love. 

'Yet  I  come  to  you  saying  it  is  over,  I 
am  weary.  You  must  set  me  free,  how- 
ever hard  and  unjust  it  seems  to  you. 
But  the  most  despairing  part  of  it  all  is 
that  most  likely  you  will  not  be  able  to 
understand  it  at  all.  You  will  only  un- 
derstand that  I  have  failed  you  in  spite 


JULIE'S  DIARY  261 

of  all  your  great  love,  and  you  will 
either  think  that  I  am  acting  through 
madness,  or  that  I  have  hitherto  lived  like 
a  scoundrel.  Yet  the  truth  is  that  I  am 
neither  a  madman  nor  a  liar,  but  a  liberty- 
sick  man  whose  mind  and  soul  become 
paralysed  the  moment  he  feels  himself 
hemmed  in  by  a  relationship. 

'You  see  when  you  and  I  first  met, 
neither  of  us  fancied  it  would  mean  more 
than  a  moment's  fleeting  and  untram- 
melled joy.  It  was  a  caprice,  an  irresis- 
tible impulse  in  us  both  with  no  thought 
of  a  binding  or  constant  relationship,  let 
alone  eternal  love. 

'Then  it  happened  that  we  really  fell 
in  love  with  one  another.  That  I  have 
loved  you,  I  need  scarcely  assure  you. 
Though  you  often  teasingly  reproached 
me  that  I  did  not  tell  you  so,  you  knew 
it  by  the  sound  of  my  voice,  by  my  glance, 
by  my  whole  being  which  never  attempted 
to  hide  how  precious  you  were  to  me. 
You  came  to  me  as  something  new  and 


262  JULIE'S  DIARY 

wonderful,  so  unsullied  and  trusting,  that 
you  aroused  in  me  feelings  more  gently 
devoted  than  I  had  known  before.  In 
the  radiant  morning  flush  of  our  love  I 
seemed  to  myself  like  a  happy  explorer 
and  conqueror,  free,  strong,  burgeoning 
with  will  and  gifts  for  new  victories. 

'We  loved  one  another,  but  our  love 
was  of  a  different  race.  I  loved  as  the 
experienced  man,  and  as  the  man  with  the 
artist's  need  for  liberty.  For  you,  love 
was  all  and  everything  in  your  life,  you 
had  no  higher  wish  than  to  give  yourself 
and  to  possess  me  entirely  and  without  re- 
striction. 

'I  wished  to  enjoy  our  love  as  an  oasis 
in  the  humdrum  of  everyday  life,  but  you, 
you  wanted  it  to  be  life  itself.  Therefore 
it  happened  quite  naturally  that  your 
young,  strong,  passionate  love  ran  my 
less  vigorous  love  tired. 

'Our  love  shaped  itself  into  something 
greater  and  more  serious  than  I  could  or 
would  embark  on,  and  gradually  it 


JULIE'S  DIARY  263 

frightened  me.  I  saw  how  your  love 
grew  day  by  day,  I  felt  how  you  clung 
closer  and  closer  to  me,  and  egoist  as  I 
am,  I  revolted  against  this  constant  inti- 
macy with  you.  I  began  to  feel  the  un- 
pleasantness of  being  responsible  for  an- 
other's life,  I  felt  myself  restricted  in  my 
movements,  enslaved,  imprisoned.  The 
moment  came  when  I  had  to  break  out 
again,  feel  space  round  me,  stand  alone 
and  free. 

'Besides,  the  habit  which  had  gradually 
crept  into  our  love  tortured  and  depressed 
me.  Such  men  as  I  fear  marriage  just 
because  it  is  love  regulated  and  systema- 
tised.  But  our  meetings,  which  in  the  be- 
ginning had  all  the  charm  of  the  unex- 
pected, the  mysterious,  the  fairy-tale, 
grew  soon  into  well-ordered  domesticity. 
We  met  on  such  and  such  days  at  certain 
hours,  and  gradually  we  spent  a  certain 
number  of  hours  in  each  other's  company 
every  day.  There  was  nothing  unex- 
pected, nothing  mysterious  any  longer, 


264  JULIE'S  DIARY 

only  a  daily  repetition  of  the  one  and  the 
same. 

'Before,  when  you  were  coming  to  me 
it  was  a  joy  to  prepare  everything  for 
your  reception,  and  when  we  parted  I 
asked  with  expectant  eagerness,  "When 
do  we  meet  again?"  Later,  there  came 
times  when  I  had  to  force  myself  to  say 
the  conventional  parting  words,  "I  sup- 
pose we  meet  to-morrow?"  and  when  you 
came,  to  ask  you,  "What  will  you  have  to 
drink?"  and  "Will  you  have  a  cigarette?" 
I  hoped  it  would  be  better  when  I  went 
into  the  country  and  we  didn't  meet,  but, 
unfortunately,  there  are  such  things  as 
letters.  There  is  always  some  possibility 
for  a  variation  in  personal  intercourse, 
while  letters  are  everlasting  uniformity. 
They  begin  and  they  end  with  the  same 
phrases,  at  the  most  the  words  occasion- 
ally change  places,  they  are  posted  and 
distributed  at  regular  hours,  they  troop 
up  like  soldiers  in  their  unchanging  en- 
velope uniform  and  their  regulation  stamp 


JULIE'S  DIARY  265 

epaulette.  All  this  meant  nothing  to 
you,  but  for  me  it  was  the  shifting  sand 
that  slowly  buried  my  weary  love.  For 
that  is  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  what 
I  have  to  confess  to  you — I  am  weary.  I 
can  no  more.  I  must  be  free.  While 
writing  this  I  feel  my  weariness  to  such  a 
degree  that  I  am  unable  to  tell  you  of  all 
the  good  warm  feelings  my  heart  still 
holds  for  you.  It  also  seems  to  me  un- 
dignified to  adorn  with  beautiful  words 
this  letter  which  brings  you  a  message  you 
have  every  right  to  think  brutal  and  un- 
just. I  think  so  myself.  I  feel  also 
how  revolting  it  is  to  break  our  relation- 
ship merely  because  you  love  me  too  much. 
All  the  same  it  cannot  be  otherwise.  All 
my  arguments  are  of  no  value  against 
my  weary  I  can  no  more.  Neither  is  it 
anything  that  will  be  cured  to-morrow  or 
the  day  after.  Please  don't  believe  that. 
No,  it  is  over,  and  both  you  and  I  will  be 
wise  in  not  attempting  to  call  it  back  to 
life. 


266  JULIE'S  DIARY 

'For  after  this  only  what  is  ugly  could 
follow. 

'You  have  often  said  to  me,  "Promise 
me  always  to  treat  me  honestly."  The 
day  you  feel  yourself  tired  of  our  love, 
tell  me  so.  I  can  bear  it  if  you  break 
with  me,  but  I  could  never  forgive  you  if 
I  discovered  that  I  had  been  living  on 
your  pity  and  generosity."  The  day  you 
anticipated  has  now  come,  and  what  you 
asked  me  to  tell  you  I  tell  you  now 
frankly.  Perhaps  you  will  say  you  have 
deceived  me  all  the  same,  for  you  have 
been  weary  for  some  time.  To  this  my 
answer  is,  I  have  not  myself  been  con- 
scious of  my  weariness,  and  could  not 
confess  that  to  you  which  I  had  not  con- 
fessed to  myself.  Now  when  we  part  we 
will  both  be  able  to  think  of  our  love  as 
a  beautiful  and  wonderful  experience — 
no  bitterness  will  mar  the  memory.  The 
parting  itself  is  always  bitter.  I  simply 
dare  not  think  of  the  sorrow  and  pain  I 
am  causing  you.  But  when  some  time 


JULIE'S  DIARY  267 

has  passed,  and  we  meet  again — more 
calmly  than  we  could  meet  now — I  be- 
lieve you  will  say  as  I  say  now  that  we 
part  just  at  the  right  moment.  We  have 
carried  the  shield  of  our  love  unblemished 
from  the  battle. 

'Farewell — try  not  to  judge  me  too 
hardly.  A.' 


8th  OF  AUGUST. 

THE  day  passed  and  the  night  passed. 
A  new  day  has  begun.  It  was  yes- 
terday it  happened,  and  I  am  alive. 

So  sorrow  does  not  kill  after  all,  and  I 
still  allow  myself  to  live. 

When  I  got  his  letter,  and  had  read  it 
twice,  and  understood  that  it  was  neither 
a  joke  nor  a  misunderstanding,  I  did  not 
cry,  I  did  not  faint.  I  was  quite  calm, 
and  reflected  in  a  curious  clear  and  calm 
way.  'So  it  is  really  finished,'  I  said 
aloud  to  myself.  My  voice  sounded  dry 
and  curiously  uninterested.  I  thought  to 


268  JULIE'S  DIARY 

myself,  'You  ought  to  have  said  that  with 
more  feeling.'  But  there  was  no  feeling 
in  me.  Everything  had  stiffened  within 
me.  My  heart  did  not  beat,  and  my 
nerves  did  not  tremble.  Even  my  face 
had  grown  stiff,  the  skin  seemed  quite 
tight.  I  smoothed  it,  and  forced  it  into 
a  smile  to  make  sure  that  I  could  move  it. 

I  went  out  of  the  house.  Where,  I  did 
not  know.  But  a  voice  within  me  went 
on  saying,  'It  is  impossible  for  you  to 
stay  here.  You  must  get  away  before 
any  of  the  others  see  you.' 

I  met  people  I  knew.  I  bowed  to  them, 
and  I  spoke  to  an  old  lady.  She  told  me 
a  long  story  about  an  illness  from  which 
she  had  just  recovered.  When  we  parted 
she  said,  'You  look  perfectly  charming  to- 
day,' and  added,  'but  of  course  you  are 
so  young  and  happy.'  I  reached  the  for- 
est and  stood  on  a  little  open  place  by  the 
lake.  I  stood  on  the  little  landing-stage 
and  looked  down  into  the  water  thinking, 
'if  you  were  really  very  sad  you  would  let 


JULIE'S  DIARY  269 

yourself  glide  down  there,  and  soon  you 
would  be  all  right.' 

From  the  town  sounded  the  church 
bells,  calling  people  to  afternoon  service. 
I  looked  round,  and  it  seemed  that  never 
before  had  I  realised  how  beautiful  the 
place  wasu  My  sight  seemed  clearer.  I 
saw  things  I  had  never  noticed  before. 
For  instance  the  tiny  island  where  the 
trees  like  love-sick  narcissus  bent  their 
foliage  to  mirror  themselves  in  the  water. 
I  heard  numberless  fine  sounds  in  the 
rushes  near  the  lake,  and  from  the  grasses 
and  trees  in  the  wood  the  voices  of  insects 
buzzing,  of  birds  nestling  among  the 
leaves,  of  the  fishes  making  bubbles  on 
the  surface  of  the  water.  I  lost  myself 
in  admiration  of  the  shape  of  the  ever- 
changing  clouds  which  looked  so  calm  and 
unchanging  on  this  quiet  summer  day,  yet 
when  one  closely  followed  their  slow  glid- 
ing through  space,  one  discovered  that  one 
moment  they  were  shining  gold-edged 
islands,  the  next  large  swooping  birds, 


270  JULIE'S  DIARY 

suddenly  to  dissolve  themselves  into 
crowds  of  tiny  playing  cloud  children. 

With  one  big  glance  I  took  in  the  entire 
picture,  and  I  thought,  'Even  should  you 
never  come  here  again,  you  will  always 
remember  what  it  looks  like.' 

I  walked  into  the  thickness  of  the  for- 
est. The  same  curious  clearness  followed 
me,  the  same  reflective,  receptive  mood. 

Until  the  sudden  remembrance  of  his 
letter  in  my  pocket  stabbed  my  heart  and 
made  my  soul  shiver.  My  knees  shook 
under  me,  and  I  had  to  lean  against  a  tree 
to  prevent  myself  from  falling.  I 
crushed  the  letter  in  my  hand,  and  with- 
out reading  it  I  saw  every  word  before 
me. 

It  was  really  true — he  had  left  me — it 
was  all  over. 

I  had  said  the  same  words  before. 
They  had  followed  me  all  the  time,  but 
not  until  this  moment  had  they  reached 
my  heart,  which  they  made  writhe  with 
pain. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  271 

Finished,  not  to  see  him  any  more! 

What  is  he  really  like?  I  tried  to 
recall  his  face,  but  it  fled  from  me;  I 
only  saw  two  large  dark  eyes  which 
calmly,  wearily,  and  ironically  smiled  at 
me. 

I  cried  to  heaven  in  fear  and  despair. 
I  implored  and  prayed  that  it  might  not 
be  true.  'I  understand  it  is  a  punish- 
ment, O  God,  but  don't  you  think  you 
have  tortured  me  enough.  Now  I  am 
going  to  close  my  eyes,  and  when  I  open 
them  I  pray  you  let  it  be  a  dream  from 
which  I  awaken.' 

Again  I  stood  by  the  lake,  and  it 
seemed  as  though  my  only  salvation  was 
to  throw  myself  in.  I  did  not  rave  any 
longer,  I  was  sad  unto  death.  I  wept 
quietly  and  gently,  I  saw  the  beautiful 
summer  landscape  in  front  of  me,  and  it 
struck  me  that  I,  who  was  so  young,  had 
nothing  more  to  hope  from  life. 

When  a  voice  within  me  said,  'Yes, 
there  is  still  hope,  perhaps  even  now  there 


272  JULIE'S  DIARY 

is  a  wire  for  you,  or  another  letter  may 
be  on  its  way.' 

Yes,  of  course  that's  it,  that's  it,  that's 
what  will  happen,  and  I  hastened  back, 
allowing  hope  to  build  the  loveliest 
dreams. 

There  was  no  wire,  and  no  letter  has 
come. 

But  I  won't  give  up  all  hope  before  I 
have  seen  him. 

Already  he  must  be  back  in  town,  and 
we  leave  here  to-morrow.  I  have  written 
to  him.  He  will  be  astonished  with  my 
letter,  and  I  think  he  will  like  it.  It  is 
quite  free  from  anything  hysterical.  It 
is  calm  and  sensible.  I  wrote,  'Perhaps 
you  are  right  in  thinking  that  something 
a  little  faded  has  crept  over  our  love,  and 
possibly — as  you  suggest — there  is  no 
other  remedy  than  that  we  don't  meet  for 
some  time.  But  perhaps  it  is  also  possi- 
ble that  by  mutual  efforts  we  may  ar- 
range matters  in  a  way  which  would  not 


JULIE'S  DIARY  273 

hurt  quite  so  much.  Let  me  therefore 
know  what  time  within  the  next  few  days 
I  can  see  you.  Don't  be  afraid  that  I 
shall  come  with  too  miserable  a  face.  On 
the  contrary  you  will  see  how  clearly  and 
sympathetically  I  shall  understand  your 
every  mood,  and  altogether  try  to  behave 
as  you  would  like.' 


9th  OF  AUGUST. 

LATE  last  night  I  sat  in  front  of  my 
mirror  brushing  my  hair.  I  was 
dead  tired,  but  not  at  all  sleepy,  and  I  sat 
looking  at  my  reflection,  getting  quite 
frightened  by  noticing  the  pale  face  with 
ghostly  shining  eyes.  I  began  to  tremble, 
and  nervously  turned  my  head  away  so 
as  not  to  see  any  more. 

My  eyes  fell  on  the  wall  behind  the 
chest  of  drawers.  The  wall  was  covered 
with  an  old  yellow  paper  with  spots  of 
damp,  and  here  and  there  it  was  torn. 
On  the  musty  paper  crawled  an  insect,  a 


274  JULIE'S  DIARY 

long,  narrow,  flat,  brown  creepy  thing 
with  many  quickly  moving  legs.  It 
surely  came  from  the  crack  in  the  right- 
hand  corner.  With  horror  I  watched  its 
manoeuvres  along  the  wall.  It  was  seek- 
ing the  warmth  of  the  candle  on  the  chest  of 
drawers.  I  stood  up  with  a  clothes  brush 
in  my  hand  to  kill  it,  when  I  saw  another 
just  the  same  peep  out  from  the  crack, 
and  slowly  move  along  the  wall.  I  stood 
paralysed  with  an  uncanny  fear,  staring 
with  wide,  stiff  eyes  at  these  loathsome 
things,  when  look !  it  seemed  as  if  the  wall 
was  suddenly  covered  with  them,  one  after 
the  other  the  insects  appeared  from  the 
crack  and  crawled  in  a  long  caravan  to- 
wards the  chest.  I  also  discovered  now 
that  they  came  not  only  from  the  crack, 
but  from  every  tiny  split  in  the  paper,  and 
in  great  numbers  they  hurried  out  from 
the  cracks  between  the  walls  and  the  floor. 
I  did  not  dare  to  move — did  not  dare  to 
kill  them,  fearing  that  for  each  I  killed 
ten  others  would  appear.  I  had  not  the 


JULIE'S  DIARY  275 

courage  to  kill  these  things  which  seemed 
to  come  from  a  grave  bringing  with  them 
death  and  putrefaction. 

I  only  stood  waiting  for  the  terrible 
moment  when  they  would  reach  the  chest 
and  come  near  to  me.  Already  they 
stretched  their  shimmering  legs  to  reach 
the  drapery  over  my  mirror.  With  every 
nerve  strained  I  watched  their  efforts. 
Then  I  started  with  feeling  a  cold  touch 
on  my  hand  which  rested  on  the  chest  of 
drawers.  With  a  shriek  I  shook  the  in- 
sect off,  and  discovered  in  the  same  mo- 
ment that  they  had  started  to  crawl  up  the 
chest  from  the  floor. 

In  that  minute  I  was  mad.  I  thought, 
'Here  they  come,  look  at  them,  they  are 
coming  like  corpse-carriers  to  take  me  to 
the  grave.'  I  rushed  from  the  room  and 
into  mother's  who  woke  up  startled,  and 
to  whom  I  could  only  say  that  I  was 
frightened,  only  frightened.  Mother 
took  me  in  her  arms  and  soothed  me,  like 
she  did  when  I  was  a  little  child.  Gradu- 


276  JULIE'S  DIARY 

ally  I  grew  calmer  and  lay  weeping 
gently.  Then  mother  said:  'Do  tell  me 
what  is  the  matter.  Why  did  you  let 
Erik  go  away,  and  why  are  you  so  miser- 
able?' 

But  I  begged  her  not  to  question  me. 
Later  on  I  would  tell  her  everything. 
Mother  took  my  face  between  her  hands 
and  looked  straight  into  my  eyes,  while 
she  said:  'There  is  only  one  thing,  Julie, 
you  must  and  shall  tell  me — is  it  possible 
that  you  are ?  I  stopped  her  by  put- 
ting my  hand  over  her  mouth.  'No, 
mother  dear,' — and  I  smiled  sadly — 'that 
which  you  are  thinking  of  you  need  not 
fear.'  'Then,  thank  God,  you  don't 
know  how  frightened  I  have  been  during 
the  last  few  days.  Of  course  I  had 
guessed  that  there  was  something  you 
were  keeping  secret  from  us.  I  thought 
you  were  meeting  some  one  at  Chris- 
tiane's,  and  that  in  time  you  would  come 
and  tell  us  that  you  were  engaged.' 

'No,  mother  dear,  in  that  also  you  are 


JULIE'S  DIARY  277 

mistaken.     I  have  no  engagement  to  tell 
you  of.' 

10th  OF  AUGUST.  EVENING, 
COPENHAGEN. 

I  AM  again  in  the  old  nest.  It  is  dark 
and  ugly  here,  but  what  does  it  mat- 
ter. After  all  I  breathe  the  same  air  as 
he  does.  I  may  meet  him  in  the  street, 
and  when  to-morrow  I  have  fetched  his 
letter  I  can  be  with  him  in  ten  minutes. 

I  am  glad  that  at  present  mother  and  I 
are  alone,  so  I  need  not  make  any  pretence 
of  cheerfulness.  Father  and  Frantz  are 
in  Jutland,  and  they  won't  be  back  for 
another  ten  days. 


11th  OF  AUGUST. 

HE  does  not  wish  me  to  come  to  him, 
at  all  events  not  at  present.     He 
dares  not  see  me  yet,  he  writes.    He  wants 
to  be  left  alone.     But  he  promises  soon 
to  send  me  a  message. 


278  JULIE'S  DIARY 

20th  OF  AUGUST. 

EVERY  morning  when  I  wake  up  I 
think,  'To-day  I  shall  have  a  letter/ 
But  the  days  go  by,  heavy,  long  and  grey 
and  they  bring  nothing  from  him.     No 
greeting,  no  message,  not  the  tiniest  word. 
How  can  he  be  so  cruel!     He  is  treat- 
ing me  in  a  way  which  even  he  could 
hardly  defend. 


22nd  OF  AUGUST. 

HAS    he    disappeared    from    earth? 
Where  does  he  hide  himself,  and 
what  is  he  doing? 

In  vain  I  look  for  him  in  the  streets  at 
the  times  and  in  the  places  where  he  usu- 
ally goes.  For  hours  I  have  stood,  out- 
side his  house,  but  I  never  get  a  glimpse 
of  him. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  279 

25th  OF  AUGUST. 

NOW  I  understand,  he  never  means  to 
see  me  again. 

Time  after  time  I  have  been  on  the 
staircase,  but  I  did  not  dare  to  ring  the 
bell.  To-day  I  did,  and  the  maid  came 
out  to  say  he  was  not  at  home.  It  was 
not  true,  I  could  read  in  her  face  that  she 
had  orders  not  to  admit  me.  She  seemed 
embarrassed  and  looked  pitifully  at  me. 

Fancy  that  he  would  submit  me  to  so 
much  humiliation. 

But  I  will  see  him.  I  will  speak  to  him. 
He  has  no  right  to  treat  me  as  he  does. 

Though  of  course  that  is  just  the  point, 
he  can  treat  me  exactly  as  he  pleases.  He 
may  humiliate  me  and  ill-treat  me — I 
should  only  feel  it  a  joy  to  be  tortured  by 
him.  I  will  crawl  at  his  feet  like  a  dog — 
he  can  kick  me  away,  I  will  return  and  I 
won't  leave  him  in  peace  until  he  lets  me 
stay  with  him. 


280  JULIE'S  DIARY 

I  thought  that  there  was  perhaps  some 
one  else  he  loves  now  and  who  comes  to 
him,  and  that  this  was  the  reason  that  he 
would  not  see  me. 

I  will  write  to  him:  Love  any  one  else 
you  like.  If  I  am  not  sufficient  for  you 
and  if  you  need  change — well — it  must 
be  so.  I  shall  understand.  You  are  an 
artist.  You  need  new  impressions,  new 
inspirations.  I  am  only  a  poor  little  girl 
with  nothing  but  my  love.  But  I  want 
you  to  know  that  without  anger,  I  can 
share  you  with  another. 

The  only  thing  I  demand  is  that  you 
shall  not  give  me  up.  I  will — in  spite  of 
everything  and  everybody — have  some 
part  in  you,  and  I  want  to  be  the  one  who 
is  near  you  when  all  the  others  have  gone. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  281 

1st  OF  SEPT. 

HE  answers  me : 
'No,  Julie,  you  must  not  send  me 
such  letters.  As  I  learned  to  know  you — 
as  I  think  of  you — you  stand  for  me  as 
a  symbol  of  nobility,  a  fine  and  original 
nature  who  never  worried  about  bourgeois 
laws  and  prejudices,  a  refined  little  woman 
who  never  grew  common  by  breaking  the 
rules  of  good  society,  but  who  on  the  con- 
trary gained  thereby  and  developed  into 
a  nobler  personality. 

'No,  Julie,  it  cannot  possibly  be  you 
who  sent  me  that  housemaid's  letter  which 
took  your  name  in  vain. 

'Where  could  you,  pure,  proud,  dear 
girl,  have  learned  those  hectic,  excited 
words. 

'I  have — I  know  it  only  too  well — 
treated  you  cruelly.  But  what  you  are 
now  doing  for  yourself  is  a  thousandfold 
more  cruel. 

'My  own  darling,  my  soul's  proud  and 
sweet  memory,  I  sorrow  over  your  letter 


282  JULIE'S  DIARY 

as  over  a  vandalism.  More  than  that,  I 
am  ashamed  on  your  account,  and  to  me  it 
seems  the  saddest  thing  I  have  ever  ex- 
perienced.' 

I  have  written  to  him  for  the  last 
time: — 

*I  thank  you  for  your  letter.  It  hurt 
so  much  that  I  could  hardly  bear  it.  I 
needed  the  brutal  truth  and  it  has  done  its 
work.  Don't  think  that  I  look  upon  it  as 
a  humiliation  that  I  was  ready  to  lie  in  the 
dust  at  your  feet.  But  it  was  unworthy 
of  me  to  force  myself  on  you  when  I 
ought  to  have  understood  you  do  not  want 
me  back  at  any  price. 

'I  ask  your  forgiveness  with  all  my 
heart.  I  knew  all  the  time  I  had  no  right 
to  demand  anything  from  you.  Of  my 
own  free  will  I  came  to  you  and  gave  my- 
self to  you — you  never  tied  me  by  prom- 
ises and  conditions.  But  you  were  very, 
very  good  to  me.  You  were  too  good. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  283 

This  is  my  only  excuse  for  finding  it  so 
difficult  to  let  you  go. 

'But  before  we  part,  I  wish  you  to 
know  how  altogether  f oolish  and  undig- 
nified I  have  been  in  my  relationship  to 
you.  From  the  very  first  day  I  believed 
it  would  end  in  marriage.  When  I  told 
you  I  had  no  wish  to  marry  you,  when  I 
even  assured  you  I  should  consider  it  per- 
fect madness — I  told  you  a  lie.  All  my 
thoughts  and  longings  were  directed  to 
the  one  aim  of  making  myself  so  neces- 
sary to  you  that  some  day  you  would  ask 
me  to  be  your  wife. 

*I  am  not  at  all  that  dignified,  high- 
minded  girl  you  thought  me.  Behind  all 
my  brave  show  of  independence  was  lurk- 
ing, first  unconsciously  then  intentionally, 
the  cowardly  bourgeois  hope  that  ulti- 
mately we  should  have  the  legitimate 
church  blessing  on  our  relationship. 

'My  calculation  failed  miserably. 
During  these  days  I  have  asked  myself  if 


284  JULIE'S  DIARY 

I  did  not  set  about  it  in  the  most  foolish 
way.  I  might  more  surely  have  reached 
my  goal  if  I  had  been  more  reserved  in 
my  way  of  loving. 

'But  after  all,  I  believe  I  chose  the  only 
way  possible  for  me,  because  I  loved  you 
too  well  to  barter  myself  inch  by  inch  for 
the  highest  price. 

'I  have  lost  my  game,  but  I  don't  regret 
it;  however  poor  the  future  may  be,  I 
know  that  the  stake  I  risked  is  after  all 
not  lost.  However  poor,  I  shall  be  richer 
in  memories  than  anybody  else  in  the 
world.  Come  what  may  I  will  always 
bless  the  day  I  became  yours. 

'Gaily  I  came  to  you,  sadly  I  turn  away 
from  you  now  you  have  left  me.  You 
took  much  but  you  gave  much.  You,  my 
dear  and  beloved  master,  my  white  Sheik, 
the  dream  of  my  youth  and  its  sorrow- 
laden  happiness. 

'I  thank  you  for  it  all,  for  your  loving 
graciousness,  for  your  severe  punishment. 

'High   you   aim,  recklessly   you   ride, 


JULIE'S  DIARY  285 

never  caring  whether  on  your  way  you 
crush  sand  or  blossoms.  May  God  make 
your  victorious  ride  bright  and  happy! 

'JULIE/ 


12th  OF  SEPT. 

I  FEEL  so  cold.  The  days  grow 
shorter  and  the  evenings  fall  over 
me  dark  and  heavy.  I  sit  in  the  window 
while  the  daylight  wanes ;  I  look  over  aim- 
lessly to  the  house  where  before  my 
thoughts  played  their  fairy  game.  The 
house  is  mournful  and  commonplace  like 
our  own,  and  where  before  my  fairy 
prince  moved  about  sits  now  a  fat,  indo- 
lent matron  filling  with  sleepy  stitches  a 
piece  of  canvas. 

They  say  that  Erik  has  returned. 
Emmy  told  me  the  other  day  that  she  had 
seen  him. 

I  am  glad  he  has  not  called  here.     I 


286  JULIE'S  DIARY 

don't  want  him  to  see  how  miserable  I 
am. 

I  feel  so  cold,  it  is  as  if  the  whole  house 
shivered.  Never  before  has  it  been  quite 
so  dull,  and  cold,  and  sad.  We  move 
about  like  shadows.  Nobody  speaks 
aloud,  and  we  meet  as  at  a  funeral. 

When  mother  and  I  are  alone  in  the 
evening,  we  don't  talk.  We  sit  each  with 
our  own  thoughts,  but  I  know  that  her 
thoughts  are  all  round  me. 


THE  END  OF  SEPTEMBER. 

I  FEEL     happier     at     grandmama's. 
As  often  as  I  can  I  go  to  her  after 
lunch. 

Through  the  noisy  streets  where  the 
people  rush  and  scramble  in  the  struggle 
for  existence — through  the  feverish  life, 
which  to  me  seems  so  course  and  hideous, 
leaving  on  my  soul  the  impression  of  a 
hideous  battle  with  hateful  shrieks  and  de- 
spairing moaning,  I  fly  to  the  little  side 


JULIE'S  DIARY  287 

street  where  grandmama  lives.  There  I 
only  hear  the  noise  in  a  softened  murmur. 
But  when  I  am  once  safely  in  grand- 
mama's  sitting-room,  I  feel  as  if  I  had  es- 
caped a  great  danger. 

Here  it  is  cosy  and  restful,  here  I  find 
peace  for  my  sorrow,  healing  for  my 
wound.  Here  all  revolting  thoughts  are 
softened  down,  here  are  smoothed  out  all 
violent  desires  and  sick  longings. 

Here  grandmama  sits  old  and  full  of 
days  and  of  the  great  wisdom  which  does 
not  ask  and  does  not  blame,  which  under- 
stands and  forgives,  which  holds  comfort 
for  everything.  I  become  like  a  child 
again  in  grandmama's  room.  I  have  my 
place  just  as  when  I  was  a  little  girl  on 
a  footstool  at  her  feet,  and  sit  there  look- 
ing through  the  old  portfolios  full  of 
faded  etchings. 

Struensen  and  his  lovely  royal  mistress ; 
Frederick  the  Sixth,  a  poor  thin-legged 
boy  in  warlike  uniform  receiving  the 
troops ;  the  fire  of  Christianborg  Castle  in 


288  JULIE'S  DIARY 

1794;  Robespierre  who  on  the  same  page 
is  shown  jumping  out  of  the  window  of 
the  town  hall  and  being  carried  off  to  the 
guillotine,  with  mangled  arms  and  legs; 
Fru  Heiberg — the  great  actress — first  as 
a  bewitching,  unconscious  maiden,  and 
later  as  a  sentimental  celebrity  with  long 
shawl  and  ethereal  glances. 

Or  I  take  a  piece  of  work  and  try  to 
make  myself  useful,  or  I  read  the  news- 
paper to  grandmama,  who  with  the  great- 
est interest  follows  the  foreign  news  and 
nods  solemnly  every  time  we  hear  of  fresh 
labour  strikes. 

Yes,  I  am  happier  at  grandmama's — 
she  and  old  Marie  vie  with  other  in  spoil- 
ing me.  As  soon  as  I  am  settled  down 
comfortably  grandmama  says  with  a 
roguish  shake  of  her  head  to  her  old  maid : 
'Well,  Marie,  I  suppose  we  have  nothing 
at  all  to-day  to  give  Miss  Julie.' 

After  which  Marie  answers,  just  as 
roguishly,  'I  really  don't  know,  ma'am, 
but  I  better  have  a  look.' 


JULIE'S  DIARY  289 

To  the  general  surprise  she  brings  a 
little  later  either  an  orange  or  a  piece  of 
home-made  cake,  or  some  pudding  with 
jam.  There  is  always  something,  and  it 
always  tastes  childishly  good  because  these 
dear  old  people  are  so  happy  in  giving  it 
to  me,  and  understand  so  well  that  just 
what  I  need  is  to  be  treated  like  a  sorrow- 
ful child. 


OCT. 

I  WISH  I  could  travel  far  away  from 
it  all.  I  shiver  when  I  think  of  the 
long  winter  in  surroundings  which  every 
moment  of  the  day  remind  me  of  that 
which  is  dead  and  ought  to  be  buried  and 
forgotten,  but  which  still  bleeds  within  me 
like  an  open  wound. 

But  where,  and  how? 

What  I  need  is  to  stand  on  my  own 
feet,  work  hard,  battle  with  life,  make  my 
own  way.  But  I  am  no  good  for  any- 
thing, except  that  bit  of  china  painting, 


290  JULIE'S  DIARY 

which  is  not  enough  to  live  or  die  on.  I 
have  said  to  myself  the  only  way  out  of 
it  is  to  get  away  to  America  and  take  a 
situation  as  maid,  governess,  or  it  does  not 
matter  what.  But  I  am  too  much  of  a 
coward.  I  have  not  got  the  reckless  cour- 
age which  is  needed  for  living  under  any 
sort  of  straits.  My  body  is  spoilt  and 
dare  not  start  a  contest  with  heavy  labour, 
and  I  should  suffer  by  being  treated  as  a 
menial. 

I  should  not  even  have  the  energy  to 
force  the  permission  from  my  parents.  I 
felt  this  the  other  day  when  I  testingly 
said  to  mother  that  I  thought  of  going 
away.  She  looked  terrified  at  me  and 
said,  'Could  you  really  do  that  to  me?' 
In  the  same  moment  all  my  will-power 
had  melted,  and  my  plans  for  travel  and 
work  collapsed  miserably.  No,  I  have 
neither  strength  nor  courage  to  break 
away.  But  if  I  go  on  staying  at  home  I 
shall  go  to  pieces.  I  think  that  I  must 
feel  like  a  bird  who,  after  being  impris- 


JULIE'S  DIARY  291 

oned  in  a  cage,  is  allowed  to  spend  some 
free  and  beautiful  days  in  the  wood  only 
to  be  again  imprisoned.  Something  in 
me  is  broken.  I  want  to  fly  away,  but 
however  much  I  flap  my  wings  I  cannot 
start  a  new  flight. 


13th  OF  OCT. 

AT  last  that  has  happened  which  I 
both  hoped  and  feared.  I  have  met 
him.  I  went  to  town  to  visit  grandmama. 
He  came  towards  me  with  a  friend.  We 
saw  each  other  some  way  off.  Now  and 
again  people  came  between  us  so  that  we 
were  hidden  from  each  other;  then  again 
our  eyes  met.  My  first  impulse  was  to 
turn  back.  But  I  forced  myself  to  go 
on.  I  felt  there  was  something  which 
had  to  be  decided  now.  And  calmly  and 
quietly — with  a  terrible  effort  of  will — I 
kept  my  eyes  fixed  on  him.  We  were 
only  a  few  steps  from  each  other.  I  saw 
a  nervous  glint  in  his  eyes — I  never  let 


292  JULIE'S  DIARY 

mine  leave  his — and  when  we  passed  he 
quickly  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed. 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  greeted 
me  in  a  public  street. 

I  felt  at  that  moment  that  I  had  been 
the  stronger.  But  as  soon  as  he  had 
passed  my  strength  failed;  my  knees 
shook  under  me,  and  I  had  to  seek  shelter 
in  a  doorway  to  support  myself.  If  he 
had  turned  and  followed  me!  I  grew 
quite  faint  at  the  thought  of  it. 

But  he  did  not  come;  and  while  I  went 
further  on  my  way,  and  as  I  gradually 
got  assured  that  he  would  not  come,  I 
thought  that,  though  it  was  a  bitter  disap- 
pointment, I  could  now  perhaps  even  hope 
for  deliverance. 


THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  OCTOBER. 

OF  late  I  have  often  been  in  Fred- 
ericksberg  Park.     It  is  so  beautiful 
there  just  now  when  the  leaves  are  dying 
in  the  most  wonderful  colouring,  carried 


JULIE'S  DIARY  293 

golden  to  the  earth  by  singing  sun- 
beams. 

I  quite  understand  why  this  garden  is 
much  frequented  by  old  people  and  lonely 
souls.  At  its  fence  the  noise  of  the  town 
stops,  and  the  park  is  an  asylum  for  quiet 
thoughts  and  quiet  sorrows.  It  is  a 
graveyard  of  sweet  memories  and  broken 
illusions. 

Every  day  I  meet  the  same  people.  It 
is  as  if  I  knew  them  all,  and  I  seem  also 
to  know  why  they  come  here.  There  is  the 
old  neatly-clothed  gentleman  whose  mouth 
always  moves  in  the  angry,  white  face,  and 
who  incessantly  beats  the  air  with  his  stick. 
What  can  be  be  but  a  late  civil  service 
man  who  continues  his  fury  against  his — 
to  him — unjust  dismissal?  And  does  one 
need  to  ask  what  the  tall,  slender  lady, 
dressed  in  black,  is  thinking  of?  She 
comes  with  her  young  daughter,  who  is 
also  in  mourning,  and  she  smiles  faintly 
and  absent-mindedly  at  the  young  girl's 
chatter.  Or  she,  the  young  cripple,  who 


294  JULIE'S  DIARY 

is  wheeled  along  the  path  by  a  tired,  worn- 
out  motherly  person. 

Or  I  myself?  Do  not  the  others  sus- 
pect the  fate  which  has  made  me  a  mem- 
ber of  their  little  community? 

A  few  days  ago  Erik  paid  us  a  visit, 
but  I  did  not  see  him.  On  hearing  his 
voice  in  the  hall  I  hastened  into  my  own 
room,  and  when  mother  shortly  after 
asked  me  to  see  him  I  begged  her  to  tell 
him  that  I  was  not  very  well. 


1st  OF  NOV. 

WAS  it  fancy  or  reality?  When  to- 
day I  went  to  the  park  I  saw  a  fig- 
ure like  Erik's  disappear  amongst  the 
carriages.  I  wonder  had  he  followed  me  ? 
But  if  it  was  he,  why  did  he  not  come  up 
to  me?  He,  at  all  events,  has  no  reason 
to  avoid  a  meeting. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  295 

30th   OF  DECEMBER. 

TWO  months  have  gone  since  I  last 
wrote  in  my  diary.  Nothing  has 
happened  worth  writing  down,  and  I 
thought  my  life  was  at  an  end,  and  that 
everything  that  happened  in  the  future 
would  be  like  withered  leaves  falling  over 
something  past  and  dead. 

But  while  I  thought  in  this  way,  I  lied 
to  myself.  For  while  the  sad  and  bitter 
days  dropped  over  me  tiny  new  shoots  be- 
gan to  spring  up  quietly,  and  without  my 
knowledge,  under  the  withered  leaves. 

I  felt,  and  I  was  ashamed  of  the  feel- 
ing, that  I  was  too  young  to  have  finished 
with  life.  I  caught  myself  dreaming  of 
a  future  which  was  not  all  memories.  I 
tried  to  thrust  these  temptations  away; 
they  seemed  a  sacrilege  to  my  sorrow.  I 
clung  to  my  sorrow.  I  sought  shelter 
and  protection  under  its  large,  heavy 
wings  like  a  nun  in  her  convent  cell.  But 
just  when  I  fancied  myself  most  safe,  I 
felt  in  my  soul  vague  stirrings  of  new 


296  JULIE'S  DIARY 

hopes  and  promises,  and  I  understood  that 
I  was  conquered. 

But  I  am  no  longer  a  child  of  illusions. 
I  don't  expect  a  fairy  prince.  I  don't 
believe  that  life  will  offer  me  an  eternal 
feast.  I  know  I  will  have  to  take  the  bad 
with  the  good — more  week-days  than  fete- 
days.  I  know  that  what  is  coming  will 
be  neither  grand  nor  remarkable,  but  I 
know  also  that  I  ought  to  be  very  grateful 
that  at  all  events  it  is  life.  I  must  take 
my  part  in  life  since  I  cannot  go  to  the 
dead,  and  since  I  am  too  young  to  find 
peace  in  the  convent  of  sorrow.  And 
since  Erik,  my  faithful  friend,  will  take 
me  as  I  am  without  question,  without  re- 
proach, fine  and  manly  without  demand- 
ing any  humiliation  on  my  part. 

It  was  he  I  saw  that  day  outside  the 
park.  A  few  days  after  I  met  him  again, 
and  that  day  we  walked  together,  and  he 
told  me  how  he  had  often  watched  me, 
but  had  kept  at  a  distance  because  he 
thought  I  preferred  to  be  alone.  I  an- 


JULIE'S  DIARY  297 

swered  that  I  had  no  reason  to  seek  lone- 
liness, but  he,  not  believing  me,  kept  si- 
lent. During  the  weeks  that  followed,  I 
often  met  him,  and  now  and  again  we 
talked  together.  He  began  again  to 
come  as  before,  and  every  time  he  came 
the  temptation  invaded  my  soul. 

At  last  one  evening,  about  a  week  ago, 
he  found  me  alone,  and  let  me  understand 
that  he  knew  everything.  He  did  not  tell 
me  straight  out,  but  he  told  me  this 
story:— 

One  of  his  friends  in  Germany  loved  a 
young  girl.  He  was  a  clever  merchant 
and  a  good  fellow,  but  neither  very  amus- 
ing nor  very  interesting,  just  an  everyday 
sort  of  person  like  me,  for  instance,  he 
added  with  a  smile.  She  was — then  came 
a  long,  flattering  description.  Besides 
being  very  charming,  she  was  a  romantic 
little  creature  with  exaggerated  notions 
of  life.  It  was  therefore  not  to  be  won- 
dered at  that  she  let  her  merchant-cousin 
understand  that  his  love  was  hopeless. 


298  JULIE'S  DIARY 

She  flew  away  from  him,  and  she  flew  far. 
Then  came  the  day  he  found  her  again 
wingshot  and  sorrowful.  Her  spirited 
flight  had  not  brought  her  joy.  Her  pain 
hurt  him  more  than  if  it  had  been  his  own, 
for  he  loved  her  still,  and  had  never  loved 
anybody  else.  He  did  not  ask  her  to  be 
his,  for  he  feared  to  hurt  her  sick  heart, 
but  he  tried  to  show  her  that  she  had  no 
better  friend  in  the  world,  and  that  his 
greatest  happiness  would  be  to  take  care 
of  her.  She  understood  him,  and  when 
some  time  had  passed  she  came  to  him  and 
told  him  that  she  had  grown  very  fond  of 
him.  And  now  they  are  happy  married 
merchant  folk  in  a  little  German  town. 

When  Erik  had  finished  his  story  we 
were  both  rather  embarrassed,  and  for 
some  time  neither  of  us  spoke.  We  sat 
some  time  looking  at  each  other,  and  I 
thought  that  after  all  he  could  not  know 
everything.  At  last,  therefore,  I  asked, 
'Then  the  young  German  lady  had  been 
engaged  to  somebody  else?'  'No,'  said 


JULIE'S  DIARY  299 

Erik,  and  he  looked  at  me  with  a  steady 
glance,  'she  had  been  another  man's  mis- 
tress.' 'And  yet?'  'In  his  eyes  she  had 
not  sinned ;  she  had  merely  loved  another. 
He  was  happy  because  he  could  now  help 
her,  and  because  he  knew  that  if  she  were 
his  wife  she  would  not  betray  him.' 

Then  we  talked  about  other  things,  but 
when  Erik  was  going,  I  said,  'Do  be  a 
dear,  and  come  on  New  Year's  Eve,  as 
you  did  in  the  old  days.'  His  eyes  grew 
moist,  and  his  voice  trembled  when  he  an- 
swered, 'Thank  you,  Julie.' 

But  later,  when  father  and  mother  came 
home,  and  I  told  mother  that  I  had  in- 
vited Erik  for  the  New  Year's  Eve,  she 
was  happier,  the  darling  little  mother, 
than  I  have  seen  her  for  a  long  time. 
That  evening  we  sat  up  late  and  talked 
confidentially  together  as  we  used  to;  we 
wept  together,  and  we  laughed  too,  and 
mother  could  not  say  all  the  good  things 
she  was  going  to  do  for  me. 

It  is  quite  settled.     Erik  will  be  here 


300  JULIE'S  DIARY 

for  New  Year's  Eve,  and  when  the  old 
clock  rings  out  the  New  Year,  no  popping 
champagne  corks  will  accompany  its  fes- 
tive chimes,  but  I  will  quietly  touch  Erik's 
hand  and  beg  him  to  help  me  to  make  the 
New  Year  happy. 

Before  this  I  shall  have  set  my  house  in 
order.  I  have  taken  leave  of  all  my 
memories  of  him.  I  have  buried  his  let- 
ters, kissed  them  for  the  last  time,  for  the 
last  time  wet  them  with  my  tears.  I  have 
also  burnt  his  photograph;  it  was  hardest 
to  part  with  that  one  of  him  as  a  little  boy. 
Now  it  has  all  gone,  but  the  veil  which  lay 
in  the  drawer  with  all  the  other  things  I 
could  not  burn.  Mother's  and  my  veil. 
I  buried  my  face  in  it;  it  seemed  to  me  a 
living  being,  a  faithful  friend,  silent  to 
all  others,  but  whispering  to  me  a  sweet 
and  intoxicating  perfume  of  beautiful 
memories.  I  could  not  kill  that.  I  felt 
as  if  it  imploringly  touched  my  cheek.  I 
kissed  it,  and  wept  into  its  soft  folds,  and 
promised  it  that  we  two  should  never  part. 


JULIE'S  DIARY  301 

I  will  wind  it  round  my  diary  and  hide 
them  both  so  that  no  one  shall  find  them. 
But  should  hours  come  when  life  seems 
grey,  and  poor,  and  empty,  I  will  seek  out 
my  two  old  confidants,  and  revive  with 
them  the  short  time  when  life's  rich  and 
manifold  splendours,  like  a  wonderful 
revelation,  blessed  my  poor  youth. 

My  diary  is  finished.  The  year  I 
started  with  such  uncertainty  is  finished. 
It  became  the  year  of  my  fate.  Rich  in 
happiness  and  rich  in  pain.  I  wonder 
which  was  greater,  the  happiness  or  the 
sorrow?  I  cannot,  and  will  not,  measure 
it.  I  only  know  that  I  wish  nothing  al- 
tered. 

Beautiful  and  terrible  year,  I  part  from 
you  in  gratitude.  Because  you  wrote  my 
life's  fairy-tale — never  to  be  forgotten. 


UCSB  LIBRARY 


A     000607279     7 


